Pedestrian
by for-the-love-of-adonis
Summary: Roxas had hit a lull in his life. Same breakfast, same school, same old friends. It was like his life was on fast forward- a blur of lackluster events that all ran together, like watery paint dripping down a canvas into a muddled gray mess. That was, until he met Axel, a red-haired pedestrian with facial tattoos and a wicked grin. Roxas's life was about to get real interesting.
1. Pedestrian

**Pedestrian**

* * *

**Akuroku AU**

**Warning: **Strong language, sexual themes

**Disclaimer: **Surprise, I don't own Kingdom Hearts or anything in it.

* * *

Roxas let his head slump against the coolness of the steering wheel, momentarily savoring the pause from today's events. It wasn't like today had been extraordinarily grueling. In fact, that's the thing. There had been absolutely _nothing_ extraordinary about it. Same old breakfast, same old school, same old friends, same old bored Roxas. Today was one of those days where he felt like his life was playing on fast forward—a blur of lackluster events that all ran together, like watery paint dripping down a canvas into a muddled gray mess. That's what his life was today. A muddled gray mess. But, no sooner had the sigh escaped his lips than a jarring honk pulled him from his temporary respite. He nodded, waving a hand of apology out the window, and pulled through the intersection. He honestly just wanted to get home and, hopefully avoiding his brother, flop on his bed and hibernate for a good few hours—or, you know, the rest of his life_._ As the steady flow of gray and weary thoughts permeated his mind, he couldn't stop the second sigh from escaping his lips.

He pulled up to a crosswalk, taking notice of the approaching pedestrian, and began to drum his fingers against the wheel, waiting for the man to pass. Much to his annoyance, the man stopped directly in front of Roxas's car. _What was this guy doing?_ Of course, now Roxas could really get a good look at the guy. And, boy, was he an eyeful. Roxas's eyes immediately narrowed in confusion—and slight disbelief— at the man's red hair, protruding from his head at all sorts of angles, seemingly defying gravity. In the middle of examining the man's very unnatural hair—_oh come on, it must be unnatural_—Roxas found his eyes shifting downward. That's when he realized, meeting the man's piercing emerald green eyes, that he'd been staring pointedly back at Roxas. Roxas felt his cheeks heat up and, in his flustered state, he fumbled to tap the horn. If this man could just take _three steps_ to the side, Roxas thought, he could be on his merry way. He rolled his window further down. "Um, could you maybe move out of the way?"

A grin was playing at the man's lips.

Roxas frowned, his patience wearing thin. "Or would you rather I run you over?"

The man's grin pulled into a well-defined smirk.

The man moved, shifting the bag he had slung across his shoulder, and leaned his elbows on the front of the car. As tall as he was, this maneuver had him basically draping himself over the front of Roxas's car. "Oh. Am I in your way?" He said, batting his eyelashes, his voice dripping with feigned innocence.

Roxas toed the gas pedal, causing the car to lurch forward slightly. The man promptly jumped backward, the alarmed look on his face lasting mere seconds before it was replaced by his previous smugness.

"Jeez, feisty, kid. You late for a hot date or something?"

"Something like that," he replied flatly.

The man's grin grew wider and he turned, beginning to walk again. For a moment Roxas thought he was going to get out of the way, finally letting Roxas off the hook. Unfortunately, the sound of the passenger door being opened told him otherwise. "What the hell? What are you _doing_? Get out."

"Hey, you're late to your date already. Might as well lend a helping hand to your pal here and give me a ride." He said, beaming.

Roxas groaned.

"Or, you know, I could drive" the man added, reaching across Roxas for the wheel and, in doing so, venturing dangerously far into Roxas's personal space. _Oh hell no_.

Roxas batted his hand away. "Where do you live," he grated out, evidently defeated.

"I can give directions. You just drive and look pretty," he replied, grinning victoriously, as he moved to kick his feet up on the dash.

The man leaned to the side as he reached into his back pocket, fumbling around a bit. Roxas's eyes widened, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter with his sudden realization. What the _hell_ was he thinking, letting a stranger into his car like this? Not to mention one with red hair and—_face tattoos? Oh my god. He has fucking face tattoos. He probably got them from the prison he just broke out from. I'm dead. I'm so, so dead, _Roxas thought. He could very well have a knife, or a gun, or a very meticulously thought out plan to kidnap Roxas. _Maybe all of the above!_

Noticing the wide-eyed look he was receiving, the guy snickered. "Relax, kid." He pulled his hand back out, waving a carton of cigarettes in front of Roxas's face. Roxas relaxed visibly.

"Oh, so you're not gonna stab me. You're just gonna give me lung cancer. Perfect."

The man laughed, placing the cigarette between his lips as he moved to retrieve his lighter. Roxas stared pointedly at the cigarette, following it as it met the man's lips. The man followed his gaze and cracked a cocky grin, the cigarette still between his teeth.

"Like what you see?" He asked, wiggling his shoulders for emphasis.

Roxas reddened again and glued his eyes to the road. He needed to look somewhere, _anywhere_, but at the red-haired stranger in his car. Even when the smell of cigarette smoke filled the car, Roxas remained impassive, hoping to avoid further conversation.

"So, what's her name?" _Great. So much for avoiding further conversation._

"Whose name?" Roxas asked, not bothering to mask the irritation behind his voice.

"Your date."

"I don't have a date," he said, with grating finality.

The man grinned again. "Thought so."

* * *

After what felt like much longer than a supposedly ten minute drive, Roxas pulled up to a small one-story house.

"Alright, you can get out now," he spat, none-too-friendly.

"I can't believe you're trying to kick me out. Tsk, and we were getting along _so _well," he whined playfully.

"Yeah, well, believe it."

"You know, I'm starting to think you really could use a hot date. You're so uptight," he remarked.

Roxas reddened slightly. He definitely did not need dating advice from a red-haired hitchhiker with prison tattoos on his face.

The man laughed. "Alright, alright. So, thanks for the ride. What's your name, kid?"

"Roxas" he replied automatically, cursing himself almost immediately afterward. He did _not_ need to be giving out any personal information to this guy.

"Roxas," he said thoughtfully, like he was testing the name out for himself. "Well, Roxas, the name's Axel. Got it memorized?"

Roxas merely stared at him, waiting for him to finally exit his vehicle after his very prolonged and unwelcome stay. Instead, Axel's green eyes remained fixed on Roxas. Suddenly his gaze…_softened_? Roxas blinked with confusion. And Roxas could swear he could hear the man—_Axel—_gently humming.

"Roxas," he breathed out, the name a soft hum on his lips. Lips that Roxas realized were nearing closer and closer until they were mere inches away from his own. Roxas's breath caught in his throat. His chest seized. Axel was going to kiss him. _Axel was going to kiss him_. _Axel was going to—_what was Roxas going to do_? _Panic flooded his insides. _Do something. Do something. Please, do something. Not _kiss_ him, but do something._

Axel's hand moved to stroke Roxas's hair and Roxas felt himself involuntarily take in a sharp breath. That's when Axel's mouth quirked into another grin.

"You've got something in your hair," he said softly, his hand retreating from Roxas's hair and placing the piece of paper he'd found into Roxas's hand as proof. He immediately felt both intensely relieved and extraordinarily embarrassed…_and maybe a little disappointed, though he'd never admit it_. Luckily for Roxas, whose face was again turning a reddened hue, Axel was already swiftly climbing out the door. "Catch ya later, Roxie!" he called behind him, turning to wink once with finality before strolling into the house with a grin.

Roxas let out a breath, feeling a little exhilarated and _a lot_ confused. That's when his attention turned to the piece of paper in his hands. Unfurling the crumpled paper, he found a message scrawled in curly pink handwriting.

_"458-0813. Call me (;_

_-Axel"_


	2. Sea Salt

_So much for hibernating, _Roxas thought. He maneuvered lethargically through the hallway until he found what, through half-shut bleary eyes, appeared to be his locker. With precision and speed akin to the likes of the undead, Roxas turned the dial until his locker, with an audible click, slid open. He wasn't sure that zombies could actually turn the dial on a lock, but if they could it would probably look a little something like that. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror that sat in the back of his locker and grimaced. _Speaking of zombies, _he thought, pawing at his mussed up hair in an unsuccessful attempt to look at least a little put-together. He wiped at his wilting eyes as his mind wandered back to the previous night.

It had been a_ long _night. After Roxas had gotten home, he had traipsed straight to his room and collapsed into bed. He had needed this reprieve all day, but especially then, after his run in with a certain emerald-eyed hitchhiker. He'd snuggled in his covers and began to succumb to the throes of sleep, pulling him from consciousness. As soon as his eyes shut, however, images of red flashed into his eyes, followed by piercing green. And suddenly he was reliving it _all over again_. Axel's face in front of his, his expression fading from one of his signature smiles into a look of soft intensity. His eyes were trained on Roxas, looking into his eyes, skating over his cheeks, and finally focusing resolutely on Roxas's lips. Roxas could feel Axel's eyes sliding over him and he shivered. Axel's hand found Roxas's hair. Again, Roxas sucked in a sharp breath, feeling Axel nearly closing the distance between them. Only this time, Axel didn't pull back.

Roxas had awoken with a start, a staccato beat hammering in his chest. He looked around, a mystified expression on his face. Relief flooded his senses when his gaze met the familiar landscape of his room. He groaned audibly, smothering his face into the pillow. _Why_ did he have to take _that _route home today? _Why_ did Axel have to be at _that_ crosswalk at _that_ intersection? And, most of all, _why _couldn't Roxas get him out of his head? I mean, sure, Roxas was 17 and, _yes_, he hadn't had a girlfriend since Naminé in the 5th grade, but that didn't automatically mean that he was—_er, _ that he batted for the other team. He was just…selective. At least, that was the word his mom had used, her hands tentatively rubbing his shoulder, placating him after he'd come home on a tear one day, angst-ridden teenager shrapnel scattering in his wake. _"I couldn't kiss her," _he'd mumbled into the pillow. His mom had assured him that this was normal. And, for the time being, Roxas was reassured.

Now, he wasn't so sure. He'd just had a dream that he was _kissing_ another guy, for Christ's sake. He groaned again_. Now was not the time to be having an identity crisis_. Roxas took a deep breath, decidedly brushing the subject off, chalking it up to weird teenager hormones and sleep depravity. _He could really use a girlfriend_, he thought. _And some sleep._

_"I'm starting to think you could really use a hot date. You're so uptight."_

Roxas sighed, the redhead's words reverberating in his head. He curled the pillow to cover his ears, a futile attempt to block out the voice. He'd spent the rest of the night with his eyes plastered to the ceiling, because every time he closed his eyes, visions of red were dancing in his head.

Roxas snapped out of his thoughts, returning his attention to the locker in front of him, as he began to mechanically maneuver textbooks around. He narrowed his eyes. _Where were his car keys? _He fisted his hand in his pocket, fumbling around trying to feel for the cool metal of his keys. His hands brushed by something small that made a crinkling noise. He stopped, pulling out the culprit. His stomach dropped.

"_"458-0813. Call me (;_

_-Axel"_

He stared at it. There, in all its crumpled glory—or infamy, rather—was the note. Feeling it tangibly in his hands reminded him that yesterday's events weren't just something out of an elaborate dream. It also reminded him that he was wearing the same pants as yesterday. He was losing it.

"Hey, Roxas!"

Roxas turned towards the voice, recognizing, amidst the herd of people meandering through the hallway, Hayner pushing through, waving his hand in the air. Roxas quickly fisted the note into his pocket. He ran a hand through his hair again, hoping he looked at least a little more rested than he was. More accurately, hoping that he didn't look like someone who'd been having _deranged fantasies_ about some oddball hitchhiker.

"Hayner" he replied, "What's up?"

He caught Hayner's eyes glancing inquisitively at Roxas's pocket.

"What's that?" He pointed towards part of the paper sticking crookedly out of Roxas's pocket.

Roxas blanched. "…That's…um, my locker combination," he said slowly, tacking on an embarrassed smile at the end. _That was the best he could come up with?_

"Roxas, you haven't memorized your locker combination by now? We've been in school like, what now, five months? " He laughed, frogging Roxas in the arm playfully.

Roxas shrugged sheepishly, rubbing his arm. _At least he bought it._ There was _no way_ he was discussing this whole ordeal with any of his friends right now. He could barely mull it over with himself.

"Anyway, we're going to Xion's Cones for lunch. You game?"

Roxas brightened a little. A little sea salt ice cream in his system would do him some good.

"Yeah, for sure," Roxas smiled. Then his face promptly fell slightly with embarrassment. "But—um—do you think you could give me a ride just this once? I sorta lost my keys," he said, another sheepish look on his face.

Hayner laughed. "Roxas, you're a mess."

_He had no idea._


	3. Dial Tone

That night had been even stranger than the first, if that was even possible. Although he'd safely avoided the _Axel_ subject at lunch with Hayner, Pence, and Olette—mostly by acting _very_ preoccupied with his ice cream cone—his attention was constantly derailing. In fact, when he'd finally located his car keys at the end of the school day, he'd found them still in the ignition. He was starting to wonder if the lack of sleep was depleting his brain cells. _Great, he was already struggling to conserve those as it was._ And it didn't help that the car smelled vaguely of cigarette smoke and…_cinnamon_? Not to mention that when he'd driven home that day, he'd fully intended to take the normal route home, but somewhere between noticing the fiery red hue of the skyline and taking in a particularly deep breath that flooded his senses with spice and smoke, he'd found himself at the exact same crosswalk from the other day_. What was the matter with him?_

He lay awake in bed that night with a lot of questions on his mind. Why was he so damn preoccupied with some random stranger_? _Especially one who probably hadn't given Roxas a second thought. At least, that's what he assumed. There wasn't anything particularly special about Roxas. Sure, he thought of himself as decently attractive, with average grades. But that was just it, he was average. He wasn't great at sports or abnormally likeable like his brother Sora. He was just Roxas, the brooding blond teen that stood perpetually in his older brother's shadow. _Axel has probably forgotten all about me by now_ he decided, turning on his side and putting the ridiculous thoughts to rest. He closed his eyes, satisfied that he could finally settle back into reality.

Shortly after his eyes were closed, images of that teasing smirk wormed their way into his head. He was reminded of the way Axel had winked at him. The way he'd touched his hair.

_"Like what you see?"_

Roxas's eyes were open in a flash. He flushed slightly at the memory, the embarrassment still fresh in his mind.

_"Catch ya later, Roxie!"_

_Catch him later? _Roxas's stomach turned at the notion. Maybe Axel really did want to hear from Roxas again. Maybe, he thought, if he called the number, he could find out that Axel was a convict or a huge asshole—or both! Or he'd possibly come to find that Axel had given him a fake phone number just for fun. At this point, he didn't care. If he called, there was a chance that he could finally put his mind to rest and see that this guy was _not_ worth sweating over. _And that he was definitely not worth losing sleep over._ God, Roxas missed sleeping.

He'd made up his mind. And with that, he drifted off to sleep. Finally.

* * *

The following day he'd felt a little more rested but a _lot_ more nervous. Sure, he'd decided that he was going to call Axel. The problem was, he had no idea _how_ to do it. Was there, like, a waiting period? And what was he supposed to say? _Hi, this is Roxas, the guy who gave you a ride. I just wanted to call to say that I can't stop thinking about you, so maybe you could tell me that you're a convict or a racist or something so I can resume my regular life? Thanks. _He furrowed his brow. Yeah, that was out. He nibbled sparingly at his lunch as he pondered this, completely zoning out from the conversation his friends were having.

"–Right, Roxas?" Olette asked.

_Huh?_

"What?"

"I was just saying, it's the guy's job to pay for the first date. It's like, part of the rules of dating."

Hayner laughed. "Don't ask Roxas, he hasn't been on a date since like, the 3rd grade."

"You mean a _play_date?" Pence asked, laughing even harder.

"That's not true!" Roxas retorted.

"Oh really? Who? And _when_?" Hayner asked incredulously.

Roxas hesitated, realizing he'd backed himself into a corner. He really did not want to talk about Naminé right now. He had enough on his mind.

"You know what, nevermind," Roxas muttered.

"Aw come on, Roxas, tell us!" Olette whined.

"Yeah, we won't laugh or anything, we promise!" Pence added.

"Hey—I'm not promising anything," Hayner argued.

"Shut up, Hayner," Olette said, smacking him in the head.

"Ouch! Hey!" Hayner cried.

Olette gave him a look.

"Alright, alright. Fine. I won't say anything," Hayner said, rubbing the back of his head with a wince.

Roxas considered this. He shrugged, guessing it couldn't really hurt anything. And it's not like his friends were about to let this go. They were persistent that way.

"Nmmpné" He mumbled, shielding his flushed face slightly with his jacket sleeve.

"What?" they all said in unison.

"Naminé" he grated out.

"_You_ dated _Naminé? When?" _Hayner asked in disbelief.

"Wait, really? Cute! Why didn't I know about this?" Olette probed.

"It was the fifth grade. Didn't really…work out." He mumbled disinterestedly, picking at his food.

"Wow. We didn't think you'd ever really dated anyone. We were beginning to wonder if you were gay or something," Hayner joked.

Roxas winced. Even though Roxas didn't think he was gay, he couldn't help but feel slightly offended by the remark. His face flushed again and he slid both his hands over his face, hoping they wouldn't notice his embarrassment.

"Hayner!" Olette cried, smacking him in the head again.

"Ow! Geez, Olette. I was just joking. You know that, right, Roxas?" he said, frogging him again in the arm.

"Yeah," Roxas said. He frogged Hayner back with all the bite of a cotton ball.

"You still hit like a girl though," Hayner added, quickly dodging Olette's smack this time. He grinned victoriously and stuck out his tongue at her.

Olette rolled her eyes.

Roxas was back in his thoughts about the phone call. _Hi this is Roxas, I graciously provided you with transportation once. Now could you please say something incredibly offensive so that I can never think about you again? _He frowned_._ He thought about what Olette said about the rules of dating. _No, _he was _not_ thinking about this as a dating situation. But maybe Olette could shed some light on his own situation. It was worth a shot.

"Hey, Olette?" Roxas asked. "_Hypothetically_, how long should a guy wait to call a— _err_— _someone_. You know, after they give you their phone number?"

Olette's eyes widened a little bit and she dropped her spoon on the floor.

Roxas gulped, preparing himself for the epic noise pollution that was teenage girl excitement.

"Roxas! Roxas, does this mean what I think it means?" She squealed excitedly. "Who gave you their number?"

Roxas winced at Olette's piercing voice. It was so shrill when she got excited. Roxas couldn't help but compare it to Axel's smooth, rich voice_—the one that resonated like a hum on his lips._ Roxas blanched at his own thoughts. _Those were not my thoughts. That did not just happen. What the hell, brain?_

"No one," Roxas said, shaking his head. "I was just wondering," he added, stirring his food around in aimless circles.

Her eyes widened. "Is it Naminé?"

Roxas internally groaned. He immediately regretted telling Olette about the whole dating Naminé thing. It was so long ago—it hardly counted as dating and was far from relevant.

"Has our Roxas finally got himself a girlfriend?" Hayner asked, elbowing Roxas with a look of both surprise and pride on his face.

Roxas shrugged nonchalantly, trying to downplay the mess he'd started as much as possible.

"_Okaaay_, _weeell_, if _not Naminé_ gave you her number, I think you should call _not Naminé _around, I don't know, two days later? Make her think you're busy and a little unattainable—you know, girls like the chase." She winked. "But if you wait too long, she'll probably think you're not interested."

"Alright, thanks, Olette. I'll catch you guys later," he said, standing up and clearing his tray quickly. That was awkward. Hopefully the whole Naminé topic would blow over sooner rather than later.

"Good luck with _not Naminé!" _Olette called behind him, looking very pleased.

Roxas frowned.

_Or not._

* * *

Roxas let out a deep breath, looking at the two items before him with unease. He was sitting on his bed, his cell phone and the crumpled piece of paper sitting before him. Olette had told him that two days was a good amount of time to wait before calling Axel (or, in her words, _not Naminé). _He'd encountered the blazing-haired pedestrian the day before yesterday, so that would make tonight the night to do it. Of course, he could wait longer. According to Olette, if Roxas continued to wait then Axel would think that he's not interested. _Yep, that's the idea. _But Roxas was going to go crazy if he kept putting this off. He just wanted his life to return to normal. Rip off the bandage. Be done with it.

_God, he was nervous_. He still had absolutely _no_ idea what he was going to say. Even more frightening, he had even _less _of an inclination of what _Axel_ was going to say. Somehow he hoped the redhead wouldn't answer the phone at all.

His antsiness growing as the minutes ticked by, he decided he was just going to bite the bullet. With sweaty palms, he picked up the phone and began dialing in the numbers one by one. He bit his lip, listening to the sound of the periodic dialing noises. On the fourth one, he heard a click. All of the breath went out of his body and his muscles tensed. There was a rustling sound, then silence, followed by the familiar voice he had heard just two days ago. It was as smooth and melodic as ever, and Roxas could somehow doubtlessly hear the sound of Axel's grin as he spoke.

"_Hey."_


	4. Mental Mutiny

"_Hey."_

Roxas steeled himself. His heart beat erratically against his chest with such force that, for a second, Roxas pictured it wrenching itself from his ribs and landing on the floor, where it'd probably continue its erratic spasms because _clearly_ Roxas's heart had its own mutinous agenda. (You know, to make Roxas miserable.) The thrum grew louder until his ears felt like they were brimming with thundering white noise. Determined to hear anything but the mocking sound of cardiac rebellion from within, he decided to speak.

"Um, hi," he mumbled.

"…Roxie? Is that your cute little introverted voice I hear?"

Roxas glowered.

"_Roxas_. It's Roxas," he said, albeit a little too forcefully. He furrowed his brow. The sound of his own voice sounded foreign in his ears. He wondered if Axel noticed.

"Well, Roxas, what brings you to call me this fine evening?"

In his heightened state of self-consciousness, he began to wonder if Axel could hear the erratic pace of his breathing over the phone. With his inner self-scrutiny spiraling to new heights, he decided to try to hold his breath. That's when he realized he was supposed to be responding. Fuck. Phone calls were way too much work.

"You gave me your phone number and wrote that I should call you," Roxas said flatly, thankful that he had an answer that didn't have to do with _I couldn't stop thinking about you_ or _I needed you to help remind me that I'm not gay_. He thought it was sufficient to put the focus on Axel's written request and not his own inner demons.

"Do you always do what you're told, Roxas?" He all but purred, although Roxas got the distinct impression he was implying things far beyond a simple command on a crumpled piece of paper.

He chose not to reply, hoping the redhead got the message that he was _not_ calling to engage in a flirtatious banter with some tattooed nobody. That was exactly the opposite of what he wanted to do.

"I can tell you haven't taken my advice," Axel replied, a bit more seriously. The sober tone struck Roxas and he felt a strange foreboding feeling wash over him.

"What advice?"

Roxas could've sworn he heard the distinct sound of Axel's widening grin through the phone's speakers.

"You know, that you could really use a hot date."

Roxas nearly choked. Determined to win the battle of composure, he retorted as quickly and as calmly as he could, despite the screaming and thrumming he felt from his insides.

"You call that advice? You are seriously misguided."

Axel's laugh came over the phone, sincere and slightly melodic. _God, brain, shut up_. He didn't need his brain _and_ his heart mutinying.

"How do you know if it's good advice or not? You haven't even tried it."

"What constitutes as 'hot' to you anyway?"

"You really want me to answer that?"

Roxas flushed_. _His brain had definitely mutinied. He had not thought that through.

"No, actually, I'm good."

The sound of Axel's laugh came over the phone line again. For some strange reason, the sound was comforting to Roxas. It made the inside of his stomach warm momentarily. God, his whole body was mutinying.

"I'll tell you what, Rox. I'll allow you the honor of having _me_ as your date,_"_ Axel replied.

Roxas wanted to laugh, but he had the distinct sinking feeling that Axel was being serious.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all."

"Look, Axel, I don't know what kind of idea you've got about me in your head, but…I'm not gay."

"Never said you were,_"_ Axel sing-songed in reply.

"So. You don't think I'm gay. But you want to go on a date with me."

"Roxas, Roxas, Roxas." He soothed. "It's purely…scientific. I want to show you that my advice is worthwhile, you know? That you can trust me."

Roxas groaned. He searched his brain futilely, trying to come up with some kind of excuse or flaw in Axel's logic. His head hurt. He sighed.

"Okay, fine."

A pleased humming sound came over the line. Roxas frowned deeply at the involuntary reaction again permeating his body.

"Meet you at the crosswalk."

A click came over the phone. Roxas leaned back, peering at the phone screen. _Call ended_.

Roxas let out a huge breath of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

_What had he gotten himself into?_


	5. Bad Dreams

Roxas awoke with his mind blank but his body in a sweat. A groggy slew of curses, some in English and others questionable, fell from his mouth as his ears were assaulted by the jarring noise behind him. He moved to wrap the pillow around his ears and grimaced when he felt the sweaty dampness of the pillow meet his face. Rolling to the side of the bed, he extended his arm to begin the haphazard blind search for his screaming alarm. What he got was the short-lived breeze of a downward descent, followed by his face greeting the floor_. And his friends wondered why he wasn't a morning_ _person_. The alarm clock continued to blare, though Roxas now perceived it as the cruel, mocking sound of automated laughter. He smacked the alarm clock with harder force than usual.

As Roxas continued his blind trek through his morning routine, he found strange solace in the realization that he'd awoken with a clear mind. Considering his dreamtrack record over the past few days, he had no complaints about not having dreamt at all. With this newfound contentedness washing over him, he began to blearily slather toothpaste on his toothbrush. Already well-acquainted with the motions, he consented absently to letting his eyes slide shut.

_His eyes traced the room, seeing flames licking the white walls around him, consuming the furniture, seeming to melt and crumple everything within its searing grasp. _

Roxas's eyes bolted open. He looked back at his reflection, eyeing the heaving of his chest and the stream of mint-colored foaming saliva that had run down his chin. _Great_, Roxas thought, _he'd traded in strangely sensual night dreams for nightmarish day dreams. (Daymares?) _He wiped his chin with indignation.

Roxas continued his routine, hoping not to experience a repeat of whatever _that_ had been. He began to drowsily undress before moving into the shower. With his hair full of sudsy shampoo, he let his eyes fall closed again.

_He stared helplessly at the growing flames, his vision becoming clouded with the haze of the thick black smoke. His lungs began to seize and sputter as he crawled fearfully backwards. He turned to where he was sure the door would be. His gaze was met with nothing but bare wall. _

His eyes flared open, nearly causing him to slather shampoo into his eye. More than a little perturbed, he turned the water to as cold as it would go.

Now that he was more than a little awake—thanks to daymare-fueled adrenaline and a very cold shower—he felt confident that the disturbing visions would stop. He started the ritual process of tearing through his entire room to find something to wear, pulling clothes from drawers and piling them on the floor. He checked under the bed, finding more crumpled clothing. He sighed. He settled on the shirt he'd seen a few minutes ago (which was now, _of course_, lying at the bottom of the mountainous pile of clothes that lay at the center of his room). When he'd finally unearthed it, he pulled it over his head. For a brief moment he was shrouded in the darkness of the inside of the shirt.

_He began to struggle for air, his breaths shallow amongst the coughs that were wracking his lungs. Terrified, he turned and began searching the wall with fervent panic, pressing his palms desperately against the surface to find some kind of opening, some kind of escape. The heat burned against his back. _

Roxas's head emerged from the shirt like he was surfacing from a dive that had gone on too long, his breaths short and uneven. _What the hell was going on with him?_

He wandered through the kitchen into the pantry, consciously keeping his eyes open and blinking as little as possible. He was afraid for a repeat of the strange visions he was having. He mulled over the options in front of him— frosted cereal, gross bran cereal, oatmeal, Pop-Tarts—but his stomach blatantly refused to voice an opinion. _What's new_, he thought. His body had basically performed acoup d'etat last night, so he shouldn't have expected much. Despite having no appetite whatsoever, he opted for frosted cereal. The thought of having a hot breakfast this morning made his stomach turn. He sat at the table, checking the time on his phone. 7:38 AM. He had about twenty minutes to get to school_. No big deal_, he thought. He only needed fifteen. Ten if he hit all the green lights. He absently spooned another bite of cereal into his mouth. That's when he noticed that he had a new text message. He figured it was going to be Hayner asking him if he could copy his notes again before 1st period_. Typical_. He swiped at the screen. Instead, however, he was met, not with Hayner's name followed by a string of miscellaneous emojis, but with some number he didn't recognize. _458-0813…hadn't he seen that number somewhere before?_

_"Roxie, don't forget about our date!  
Same time and place as when I first saw your cute face"_

_No mystery there_. He knew exactly who the number was. _And it definitely wasn't Hayner wanting to copy his notes._ He sighed, dropping the spoon unceremoniously back into his cereal bowl. He'd tried to put the "date" at the very back of his mind all morning, burying it like he'd buried the shirt he was wearing under a mountain of other clothes. He lowered his head and massaged his temples. This wasn't going to be any different than any time he'd hung out alone with Hayner. It would be_ fine. _He was in _control. _He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

_He crawled a little further, trapped in an inescapable furnace. He continued to blindly reach for the wall in front of him. The world around him seemed to be moving painfully slow, spiraling before his eyes. Then there was black. Abyssal. _

_He felt a tickle on his chin. Then another on his cheek. By the fourth feathery touch, he raised his head from the ground, his vision filling with the sight of hundreds of tiny blades of grass. He looked down at himself, inspected his hands, his torso, his legs. He was fine. He breathed deeply, no longer feeling the burning in his lungs. He lay back down onto the bed of green that cradled him, his face meeting the dampness of the dewdrops. _

Roxas jolted awake, his face half submerged in his cereal bowl. Oh so now that _Axel_ texts him, he stops having day-nightmares? _Daymares? Seriously, why don't they have a word for that? _He felt strangely like he was becoming a slave to some cheesy romance novel. He checked the time. 7:53._ Well, shit._

* * *

Roxas sat in 3rd period, feeling incredibly antsy. He'd gotten over the denial of the whole _I have a date with Axel_ situation, but now that he'd accepted it, his imagination was running absolutely wild with it. Maybe if everything in his body hadn't unanimously decided to rebel, he wouldn't be _in _this situation. Well, stomach, heart, and brain, are you _happy_ now? He thrummed his pencil against the table, wondering what _Axel's _idea of a first date was. Images of tattoo and piercing shops, sketchy drug dealers, and strip clubs filled his mind. His head sunk onto the desk with a thud.

"_Roxas. _My classroom is not the place for your naptime. If you want to nap, I can surely let you do it in detention."

"Sorry Mr. Strife," he mumbled. He wanted to blame the anarchy that was going on within him, but he figured that wouldn't exactly bode well with Mr. Strife. _Or any teacher for that matter_. He sighed.

He tried to take notes for the rest of the lecture, but half the time he was accidentally writing down his own thoughts instead. Things like "getting arrested for indecent exposure" and "pranking elderly people" and "making a homemade bomb" littered the page. He really hoped Axel wouldn't rope him into delinquency on the first date. _God_, he needed to _stop _calling it a_ first_ _date_. It was going to be the _only_ date. It would barely even _be_ a date. ..._Right?_

* * *

"Hey Roxas, grab me a napkin, would ya?"

Roxas narrowed his eyes. "Hayner, they're closer to _you_ than they are to me."

"Geez, Rox. You're so mean now that you have a girlfriend. You'd think it'd be the other way around. Trouble in paradise?" Hayner teased.

"Give him a break," Olette replied.

Roxas brightened a little as Olette stuck up for him.

"—he's always been sulky like that," she finished.

Roxas glowered again. "Thanks."

"See? But we love him anyway," she added, smiling.

"I think I'd love him more if he would quit bumping the table," Pence mumbled, picking his bowl of soup off the table to keep it from sloshing around further.

Olette glanced down at Roxas's leg. It was bouncing up and down a mile a minute, knocking haphazardly against the table. "Roxas, what's up with you? You're being super fidgety." She placed her hand gently on his leg to get him to stay still. As soon as she did this, Roxas's fingers began rapidly tapping against the table instead. She rolled her eyes and pulled her hand back.

"Dunno. Nervous for the calc test 7th period, I guess?" he replied, wishing he could convince himself of the same. He picked up the piece of pizza in front of him and stared at it blankly before putting it down again. His stomach was in knots enough as it was.

Olette eyed him skeptically. Suddenly her eyes brightened and she was leaning excitedly across the table."Hey, w_ait a minute, _how did that phone call go, Roxas? Did you talk to Naminé?"

"I never _said_ it was Naminé. It was just hypothetical, 'Lette, seriously," Roxas replied flatly. _Mental note: _never_ tell Olette anything._

"Oh! Right, _riiight._ So. _Hypothetically_, how did it go with Naminé?" she corrected, winking.

Roxas stared at her. Girls were way too persistent. Well, girls _and_ Axel. _Screw_ _Axel, _he thought. _Okay wait, bad wording. Don't screw Axel. Ugh. Nevermind. _He thought about how Axel had somehow managed to manipulate him into giving him a ride, _calling_ him, and then going on a _date_ with him. Didn't Roxas have _any_ sense? The guy was a total stranger. A _hitchhiker_. Didn't Roxas remember _anything _they'd taught him in school? _Like, hellooo? Stranger danger_? He wanted to smack himself over his lack of street smarts. He shouldn't have stopped the car. He should've just kept on going and either run him over or let him jump out of the way. _Would've served him right, honestly._

_"_Come _on_, Roxas. We're dying over here! Tell us!"

In the midst of his frustration, Roxas forgot briefly about his mental note and the new _don't tell Olette things _policy. "It went fine. Although _not Naminé _asked _not Roxas_ on a date and now he's totally scr—"

"WHAT?" Olette squawked. "You have a date?! _When_?"

Did he just say that _out loud?_

"Atta boy," Hayner said, elbowing Roxas with a sly grin on his face. "I knew you had it in you."

"Why didn't you or Naminé ever tell me you guys dated before in the first place?" Olette whined.

"It's not Nam—" he stopped. Something crossed his mind. If he told them it really wasn't Naminé, then they'd just keep pestering him and he'd have to come up with some other person. And he _definitely _wasn't telling them about Axel. He'd rather them think that he was dating Naminé than dating a guy, much less _Axel_. He sighed, rubbing his temples slowly. "Listen, could you just keep this…on the down low for a while? Please."

"Yeah, for sure. I'm just happy you told me—er, I mean us," Olette nodded enthusiastically to punctuate her point.

Pence laughed. "_Olette_? Keep a secret? Since when?"

"Shut up, I can keep a secret. You remember when I kept your secret about that time you were stuck in the book store café bathroom for five hours before I came and brought you some of my dad's pants to—_oh_."

Hayner and Roxas burst out laughing.

"Olette! Er—I—come on guys, that didn't happen. She made that up," Pence muttered, turning his face back towards his soup with embarrassment.

"Sorry, Pence," she said, with a sheepish smile. "But Roxas, I _will_ keep your secret. I promise. Now tell me _everything. _I need details. Like…when is your date? Where are you taking her? What are you going to wear? And please tell me it's not that— Oooh..." She lowered her voice to an intense whisper. "Roxas, are you planning on kissing her?"

"Um…tonight. The date is tonight," he answered belatedly, feeling a little dazed by all the questions. He'd had a _lot_ of questions already, but he hadn't thought of half of those. He wanted to smack himself in the face again. But mostly he wanted to smack Axel in the face.

"Tonight?! Sheesh, that gives me no time to prepare you. Okay, let me think." She leaned back, her eyes rolling up slightly as she contemplated what she wanted to say.

"Okay," she said finally, counting on her fingers as she spoke. "Manners. Use yours. Open the door for her. Chew with your mouth_ closed." _She narrowed her eyes pointedly at Hayner for emphasis, who responded with a cheesy grin, _literally_, as chewed pizza nearly fell out of his mouth. She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "—Pay for her, preferably. Oh—and comb your hair, for heaven's sake!" She reached over in an attempt to smooth Roxas's hair down.

Roxas batted her hand away. "You're doing the mom thing again."

"Sorry," she sighed. "This is what having younger siblings does to you."

"Alright, alright, thanks Olette," Roxas said finally, ruffling his hair back into his preferred state of disarray.

"Wait, one last thing," Olette added, lowering her voice back to the intense whisper. "Now, no pressure or anything, but if you're considering trying to kiss her, hang back first and observe a little. If you find her staring at your lips, go for it."

"What?" Hayner asked incredulously.

"What do you mean 'what'? It's just a girl thing," Olette shrugged. "You guys should really start reading _Cosmo_ or _Seventeen_."

Roxas reddened slightly. All the kissing talk was making him feel…weird. He had _no _plans to kiss Axel. He'd sooner run him over with his car—he'd already pictured doing _that_ in his head once or twice. Besides, what Olette failed to realize was that _girl things _didn't exactly apply to his situation anyway.

* * *

Roxas sweatily gripped the steering wheel, driving well below the speed limit as a way to buy him some time—to preserve his sanity. The scent of cigarettes in his car had dissipated, leaving only the scent of stale air and plastic. He took a couple deep breaths, meanwhile changing the radio station any time an even remotely romantic song came on. He needed to get into one of his sardonic, austere moods now more than ever.

He spotted red spikes in the distance before anything else. Axel was sitting on the grass of the median next to the crosswalk. As Roxas pulled his car up, Axel perked up, hopping to his feet. His same, slightly dilapidated bag was slung across his shoulder. He sported a sly grin as he strolled up to Roxas's driver-side window. Roxas sighed and reluctantly rolled his window down.

"Hey Roxie," he said brightly, reaching in to ruffle Roxas's hair. "I was beginning to think you'd stood me up." He leaned in to steady his arms against the window frame, looking at Roxas with a soft smile.

Roxas promptly reached up and smoothed his blonde locks back down a little, feeling Axel's gaze the whole time, as though it were searing into him. It made him squirm a little and he averted his eyes.

"So, you gonna get in the car or are you just going to stand there like an idiot?" he replied, pointing to the passenger side seat.

"Actually, Rox, I was thinking that I could drive. That way it'll be a surprise."

Roxas's eyes widened a little. A _surprise_? Images of tattoo parlors, LSD, strip clubs, public indecency, and homemade fireworks were filling his mind. His stomach was suddenly in his throat. He gripped the steering wheel a little harder, feeling his knuckles turn white.

"Are you sure your license isn't suspended for multiple D.U.I.s or something? Do you even _have_ a license?"

Axel clasped a hand over his chest, wincing with feigned offense. "Ouch. I'm really hurt, Rox. What kind of a person do you think I am?"

"I mean, you had to get a ride from me once. I kind of just assumed…" He trailed off as Axel's grin began to take on a slightly more devious, plotting look.

Axel leaned in dangerously close, sliding a hand into Roxas's hair.

Roxas was looking at him like a deer in the headlights. Pinned under Axel's gaze, he felt like he couldn't move at all. He sucked in an unsteady breath. _This…was a dream, right? Just one of his stupid Axel dreams? Okay, Rox, this would be a really good time to wake up now!_

Fortunately, Axel pulled away, but with something in his hand. Roxas stared at him blankly, reeling a little from their previous close proximity. Axel waved the retrieved item in front of Roxas's face.

"See? Fully licensed. I told you that you could trust me."

Roxas reached out and steadied Axel's hand, peering at the card. Sure enough, it was a driver's license with Axel's face plastered on it. He sighed with resignation, unlocking his seat belt and moving to open the door, half hoping to smack Axel with it as he opened it. _Of course_, Axel moved out of the way before he could manage it. Roxas walked around to the other side of the car, getting in with a huff. _So much for being in control._

Axel was gazing at him again with a look that Roxas couldn't quite read. He quickly seemed to snap out of his thoughts, moving fluidly into the driver seat. He turned to Roxas.

"So, you're cool with me driving?"

Roxas figured Axel must've noticed the slightly perturbed look on his face. He was having his delayed "stranger danger" reaction. He still honestly had no idea who Axel was and even less of an idea of where Axel was planning on taking him. He mentally pushed away his inhibitions and took a steadying breath.

"You promise you're not going to, like, kidnap me or anything?"

"Geez, all these _accusations_, Roxas. You wound me so." He stuck his lip out in a momentary pout before continuing. "Alright. I pinky promise I won't 'kidnap you...or anything'." He winked as he added the last part, holding his pinky out expectantly.

Roxas stared at him. "_Seriously_?"

"I mean, we could kiss on it?" He pursed his lips.

Roxas glowered, offering his pinky to finish the juvenile ritual. _Lord, what a piece of work._

"Great," he said, turning the key in the ignition. "Let's hit it."


	6. Mocha

"Axel, I swear, if you're taking me through this back alley to some sketchy gambling shack or strip club, so help me God I will—"

"Roxas, _relax_. It's just the back employee entrance. I used to work here so I came out here to smoke all the time."

_Used to work here. _Still imagining some sketchy strip club, Roxas's imagination quickly conjured up a picture of Axel dressed as an exotic dancer before he could put a stop it. _Okay, brain, it's been established that you're unhappy with the current cerebral Roxian government or whatever, but there's no need for complete heresy._ _For Christ's sake_. He needed mental bleach.

He eyed the decrepit alleyway with increasing anxiety but continued to follow close behind, albeit reluctantly. He hung back for a second as Axel opened the door, trying to peer over Axel's shoulder to look for anything sketchy, like a scantily clad body (_or a dead one, for that matter_) but Axel was too damn tall. Axel held the door open for him and he entered cautiously.

The scent of espresso and spice filled his airspace like a crashing wave.

"You…you brought me to a _coffee shop_?" He asked in disbelief.

"Kinda lame, I know." He smiled softly, reaching up to tuck one of his red spikes back. It sprang back into place immediately. "I just really like the vibe of this place. It's just…homey, I guess." He shrugged. "Maybe that's just me."

Axel walked past the back pantry, stacked with all the supplies in bulk, turning the corner into the open space of the coffee shop. Roxas followed docilely, feeling a bit like a lost puppy. _Yeah, the thought of Axel as his owner. Thanks for that one, too, brain._

Roxas looked around, noticing a mural on one wall and another wall filled with framed pictures of different groups of people. There were only a couple of people here—that aspect calmed Roxas a little. He really didn't want to see anyone he knew. What would he tell them? _We're cousins. _Yeah, they'd _totally _buy that_. Blond, pale, blue-eyed, shorty Roxas and green-eyed, spikey-haired, redheaded, tan, handsome Axel._ Wait, _handsome_?

Axel nodded at some blond guy behind the counter. The blond teen—who had previously been beating the coffee machine with one hand and attempting to plug the spewing of coffee out of some crevice with the other—shot up with wide eyes. He waved excitedly, taking his hand off the leaking coffee machine. Coffee immediately began spewing out of the machine again into the air, nearly missing the blond's apron. His face took on a look of embarrassment and he moved back to fiddling with the coffee machine to get it to stop.

Axel sighed, shaking his head with a look of amused annoyance on his face. "Ah, hell. One sec, Roxas."

Roxas watched idly as Axel walked up behind the blond and pulled him out of the way by the shirt collar. The blond began to protest, having been placed directly in the caffeinated line of fire. Axel crouched down under the coffee machine and sprung up a second later, the plug in his hand. He waved it in the air victoriously. The coffee machine had abruptly stopped spewing its contents. Axel crouched back down and plugged the cord back in, as evidenced by the return of the low sounding hum of the coffee machine.

"Alright, now that I've effectively saved Demyx's ass, how about some coffee? You know, the non-projectile kind."

* * *

"Do you always take your dates to your old places of employment so you can show off? I mean, how do I know you didn't plan for that whole Axel-saves-the-day coffee explosion thing."

Axel laughed. "Do I always take my dates here? Nah. Only the ones I like." He winked, hiding his cocky grin behind his cup of coffee, taking a long sip as he stared at Roxas over the top.

Roxas stared back at him. "You didn't deny setting up the coffee explosion."

He shrugged. "I can always count on Demyx to be doing something stupid."

Roxas nodded, taking a small sip of his coffee. It was something Axel had ordered for him. It tasted more like hot chocolate with a hint of coffee, but he didn't really mind. Plus, if this Demyx guy was as dumb as Axel was implying, he couldn't really knock the place for something Demyx had made him. He looked up and found Axel staring at him with a strangely scrutinizing look on his face.

"What?" Roxas said, wiping at his face, feeling a renewed sense of self-consciousness.

"Nothing. You just look a lot like your brother, you know?"

Roxas narrowed his eyes at him. _How did he know Sora?_ He was getting a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"I—what? How do you know my brother?"

"Sora and I were in the same graduating class," he said quietly, looking away from Roxas for once. His eyes settled out the window but he wore a distracted look on his face.

Roxas looked incredulous. "But, that would make you, like, 21."

"20, actually," he said, looking at Roxas again. His eyes were flitting around slightly, as if they couldn't settle on a decided part of Roxas's face.

"Axel. I'm 17."

He put on a soft, almost sad smile. "I know."

"And you asked me on a _date?_ Axel, what the hell?" He felt strangely betrayed and he didn't know why. _Why hadn't he figured this out earlier?_ Axel had showed him his driver's license_. For God's sake, why didn't he think to look then_? Sexual predators 101—don't go on_ dates_ with guys who are after _minors_. _Stupid._ He moved to stand up, his head spinning dizzily.

Axel put up his hand in protest, reaching for Roxas's arm.

Roxas smacked it away, trying to fumble his way out of the booth.

"Roxas, wait. I told you, you didn't even have to think of this as a date. You said yourself you weren't gay. I just, wanted to hang out, you know. Is that so bad?"

Roxas looked at him. He looked genuinely apologetic. Something in Roxas's chest twinged a little at the look in Axel's eyes. _Ugh, okay, heart, you win._ He sat back down, staring hard at the table, refusing to look Axel in the eyes. His brain seemed to be breaching over to the rebellious side again. Thoughts like '_hey, you turn 18 in two months anyway, what's the big deal_?' were filling his head. _You just want to come up with excuses not to like Axel because you're scared of how much you already do._ His forehead wrinkled at that. _What?_

"What are you still doing in Twilight Town, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be away at college or something?"

"Would you hit me again if I said 'waiting for you to turn eighteen'?" He quirked a smile.

Roxas leaned over and frogged Axel in the arm. "Seriously, Axel."

Axel glanced out the window briefly, something changing in his expression. He looked back at Roxas.

"I actually don't—live in Twilight Town, that is. I've only been here for about a week. Back in town for my mom's funeral."

"Oh." Roxas's heart twinged again, making him feel even guiltier for throwing his accusations at Axel a second ago. And for hitting him. Sort of.

"I'm sorry," Roxas said finally.

"Don't be. She smoked. Like mother like son, ya know?" He chuckled darkly. "She knew it was coming. I knew it was coming. It was just a matter of when."

"So, are you staying with your dad while you're in town…or…?"

He responded with a hybrid between a tut and a laugh, but this time it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I might, if I actually knew the guy."

Roxas's heart couldn't take much more of the guilt. _Nice—remind Axel of both his dead mom and his deadbeat dad. Good job, Roxas._ He squirmed uncomfortably, sipping his more-hot-chocolate-than-coffee again.

A resounding crash came from somewhere behind the counter. "Whoops," Demyx's voice piped up shortly after.

Roxas looked over at Demyx hauling the coffee machine from the floor back onto the counter.

Axel rolled his eyes with a smile. "I don't even know why they let him work here. Don't get me wrong, I love the guy to death, but I sure as hell wouldn't hire him."

Roxas's head was echoing with Axel's words. _I love the guy to death._ What was _that_ supposed to mean? Something else in his heart twinged uncomfortably. He decided to change the subject. He couldn't take any more heart palpitations.

"So, where are you staying, then? Do you have a place here by yourself?"

"Nah. I probably won't be in town for too much longer, anyway—"

Roxas's face fell. _The guy asks me on a date, pulls his fuckin' phone number out of my hair, tells me about his parental trauma, and now he tells me he's just gonna up and leave?_

"—Well, unless I find a good reason to stay," he added with a wink, seeming to notice Roxas's reaction. "But right now I'm just kinda bouncing from couch to couch. Demyx usually lets me crash at his place."

Roxas internally groaned. He was trying to get the topic _off_ Demyx. Now Axel was telling him that he practically _lived_ with Demyx? _Alone? _His chest was growing increasingly tight and uncomfortable, but he couldn't figure out why. He scooted his drink away, his stomach suddenly protesting.

"I wouldn't mind crashing on your couch either, Rox. Or, you know, in your bed. Whichever is preferable." He cracked another one of his signature cocky grins.

Roxas could feel his face heating up to record highs. He couldn't understand it. When Axel was flirting with him, he desperately wanted Axel to _stop_ flirting with him. But when Axel talked so _lovingly_ about Demyx, he kind of wanted to let a coffee machine fall on top of Demyx.

"You definitely can't sleep in my bed when you were just asking me to drop you off at your _boyfriend's _house a couple days ago." He spit the word boyfriend out harder than he'd meant to, but it felt right nonetheless. _Dead mom or not, Axel was being kind of a douche._

Axel choked on his coffee. "My _what?"_ He looked at Roxas quizzically, his brows furrowed. Then his eyes widened.

"Oh. _Oh. _You mean _Demyx_? No. I mean, yes, you dropped me off at Demyx's house, but Demyx is definitely _not_ my boyfriend." Axel was laughing now.

Roxas stared at him, unamused, his chest feeling only slightly lighter. He still didn't really like the sound of Demyx and Axel staying together alone. If _anyone_ set off Roxas's gaydar, it was that dumb, doe-eyed blond, who was now half-singing, half-humming _Shakira lyrics_ behind the counter. Roxas grimaced.

Axel tried to catch his breath, but continued to laugh, rubbing his eyes as they watered. "Roxas, trust me. I stay with Demyx and _his_ boyfriend. Those two keep _me_ up with their weird late night sexcapades. Not the other way around." He made a fake gagging noise, nudging Roxas from across the table.

"Oh, come on, Roxas, smile. I just told you I don't have a boyfriend. That means the position isopen for applicants_." _He winked. "I could give you a good recommendation and everything."

Roxas rolled his eyes, cracking a smile despite himself. "You're an idiot."

"Aw, see, I _knew_ that would cheer you up."

Roxas narrowed his eyes at Axel, trying to be angry with him. Sometimes it really felt like he was just _playing_ with Roxas, like some kind of little toy. _And he was just too damn cocky for his own good._ He reached over and punched him in the arm again with all the strength he could muster.

"You know, that would almost be discouraging if those actually hurt," Axel teased.

Determined to wipe that smug smirk off of Axel's face, Roxas resorted to desperate measures. He eyed Axel's coffee before reaching over and putting his hand in Axel's coffee, scooping up the remnants of some whipped cream and lukewarm coffee. He brought his hand up to smear it on the side of Axel's face, all the while smiling as innocently as the babe unborn.

Axel tried to shield his coffee from Roxas's grubby fingers. "—Hey! What are you doi—" he stopped mid-sentence, the damage already done. The side of his face was now smeared with the sticky remnants of whipped cream and coffee.

Roxas simply smiled up at him, blinking innocently. "You were saying something? Oh, by the way, you've got a little something on your face." He pointed to his own cheek for emphasis.

Axel gave him a measured look. "Really?" He slid his hand down his face, scooping up some of it. "Thanks. You know what? You have a little something on your face, too. Here, let me get it for you." Axel reached over with his now whipped-cream covered hand, lunging across the table in an effort of retaliation.

Roxas quickly reeled backwards, Axel's attack only succeeding in smearing the tip of Roxas's nose.

"Damn. For someone with a soft punch, you've got some fast reflexes." Axel wiped the leftover whipped cream off his face, sticking his finger in his mouth shortly afterward, getting rid of the remaining evidence of Roxas's attack.

A laugh escaped Roxas's mouth. He wiped the whipped cream off his own nose. His anxious resolve had dissipated. He actually felt...well, good. He guessed that maybe hanging out with Axel could be just like hanging out with Hayner. That's when he looked up and found Axel staring at him. But not just _at _him. Roxas could _swear_ Axel was staring solely at his mouth. His cheeks heated and he quickly picked up a drink menu to hide behind. Olette's words were reverberating in his head.

_Something...something about staring at my lips. If he stares at my lips...Oh god._

Roxas's head was spinning. Sure, it was supposed to be advice about a girl, but still. Axel wanted to _kiss _him. Axel was _a guy. A twenty year old guy._ Roxas felt like he couldn't breathe. He needed to _think_.

Unfortunately, before he had the time to, Axel's hand was soon pulling the menu out of the way of his face. Now there was no barrier between them, and Axel was looking straight into Roxas's eyes. Roxas caught the edge of a smile on his lips. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes momentarily.

"Hey, Roxas, come on, let's get out of here. I don't want your parents thinking I kidnapped you... _'or anything'." _He winked.

Roxas could tell Axel was making fun of him, but he was just happy to have the attention diverted from his mouth. He'd had _enough _inner mutiny and mixed signals for one day.


	7. Science

Roxas parked the car in front of the same one-story house as he had a couple nights ago, only now he eyed it with a heightened sense of scrutiny—now that he knew it was_ Demyx's _house. _Something about that blond rubbed Roxas the wrong way_. He wondered briefly if Axel had a thing for blonds or something, considering how he apparently _loved_ Demyx so much and how he seemed to be fleetingly interested in Roxas. Something in his chest burned bitterly. He eyed the little house with even more disdain, especially at the thought of Axel soon retreating into that house. _Demyx's house. _His chest tightening further, he blurted the first thing that he could think to say.

"Hey, uh, Axel. If you ever need a place to crash, you could always stay at my house...I mean, I guess. If you need to."

Axel raised his eyebrows at Roxas.

"In a separate room," he quickly added, realizing the initial implication. His mind flashed back to what Axel had said.

_I wouldn't mind crashing on your couch, Rox. Or, you know, in your bed. Whichever is preferable._

He felt himself flush all over again for what felt like the millionth time today. _God, what was it about Axel that made him melt into a pathetic puddle of idiocy? _Maybe the second-hand smoke really was depleting his brain cells. Pretty soon he probably wouldn't even be able to form coherent sentences_._ Or maybe that was already happening.

"Aw, Rox. See, I knew you had a soft spot for me somewhere in there," he said, poking Roxas lightly in the ribs. "You know, underneath all your cute little scowls and teenage angst." He placed his hand lightly under Roxas's chin, meeting his eyes. A smile was playing softly at his lips.

Axel's eyes twinkled a little brighter than usual. Staring back into those emerald eyes, Roxas failed to notice that Axel hadn't pulled his hand away, that Axel was still touching him. When he finally realized, he panicked. His hand shot up to push Axel away, landing on Axel's chest. _Unfortunately_, Roxas apparently _really_ needed to work out, because Axel didn't budge an inch. Instead, it looked like Roxas had merely moved to _touch_ Axel. If anything, Axel appeared as though he'd gotten impossibly closer_. _Roxas could feel the warmth emanating off of him, could smell the scent of cinnamon and smoke flooding his senses. He could feel Axel's muscles tensing slightly through the fabric of the shirt. _This probably didn't look good_. Actually, it probably looked like a perfect invitation for _Axel_. _Great_. _For all he cared, his brain cells could rot away, because clearly their power for decision making was completely shot._

"So, Roxas," Axel continued, seemingly unperturbed by the sheer proximity of the two. "I was thinking—and hear me out for a second. You agreed to this date in the interest of a little_ '_scientific venture'_. _You know, to prove that you could trust me, right?" He tilted his head slightly as he spoke.

Roxas gulped, his throat suddenly coming up impossibly dry. He didn't like where this was going, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. He could barely bring himself to move. Still under the influence of the cinnamon and smoke flooding his senses and the twinkling of Axel's impossibly green eyes, he merely nodded slowly in response.

"Well, I was thinking, if we really wanted to be scientific—which, I think we do—we ought to do what _any scientist_ would think to do. I mean, there's no way you could really think to trust me after one date, right Rox?"

Roxas shook his head slowly, his head spinning. _He really, _really_ did not like the sound of where this was going._

"So, in the interest of being scientific, I think we should consider doing multiple trials_._ You know, standard procedure and all that."

Roxas narrowed his eyes. His hand involuntarily clenched a little harder at Axel's shirt. Thinking took _way_ too much effort and his head was starting to hurt.

"Axel, are you...are you saying you want to go on a second date with me?"

"Well, yeah. Duh. But I'm also explaining why I think you _should_ go on a second date with me, that way you really can't say no." His grin widened, then disappeared almost completely. Instead, a look of soft intensity overtook his eyes. He leaned in closer.

Roxas's heart was beating impossibly fast. His mind couldn't move fast enough. He just knew he did not want Axel to go in that house. _Demyx's_ house. He needed to keep Axel here a little longer.

Roxas could feel Axel's eyes on him, could feel the warmth of his breath skating lightly over skin.

And suddenly they were kissing.

Roxas's hand fisted itself in Axel's shirt. Somewhere in the back of his mind he perceived that Axel's lips were on his. _Axel's_ lips. On _his. _But mostly everything felt like _fire_. Roxas's skin felt the burning heat everywhere that Axel touched. His chin, his lips, his cheek as Axel's hand moved to cup his face. His mind was inconceivably and impossibly blank. And Roxas reveled in it.

And then it was over. Axel was pulling back. A slight, almost inaudible sound of disappointment, somewhere between a gasp and a sigh, escaped Roxas's lips before he could stop it. His cheeks rouged slightly.

Axel smiled. "I'll take that as a yes?"

"Shut up and kiss me," he breathed, pulling Axel back down again.

* * *

Roxas wandered into the house, his hair mussed and wild, heading a little aimlessly towards the kitchen. His mind was in a daze of sorts, still reeling from the events that had transpired less than half an hour ago. He wasn't even sure if that had really happened. He opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water and taking a couple of long swigs. As the bottle pressed against his lips, sensations flooded his memory again. _The feel of Axel's lips on his, soft and rough at the same time. The feeling of—_

"You're home late. What, detention with Strife again?"

The sound of Sora's voice jolted Roxas out of his thoughts. He shut the fridge door, startling a little when Sora appeared right behind it. Roxas tried to appear as disinterested as possible, not wanting to raise any of Sora's suspicion or the weird brotherly concern that went along with it.

"Huh? Oh, uh. Yeah. Yeah, I fell asleep in class and he got pissed," he said, shrugging. _Well_, it was _almost_ true. At least he had Axel to thank for _that _excuse, considering he had been worrying about Axel's plans for the date when Strife had almost given him detention.

"I don't know why he has it out for you so much. He was pretty nice to me," Sora added, looking genuinely sympathetic. He moved to pat Roxas on the shoulder.

"Yeah, _some_ mystery there," he replied, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Roxas cursed himself for wrapping himself up in the fantasy. It was just _so vivid_. But, that could still have been a dream, _right?_ Maybe he had gone home after school and taken a long nap, and all this had merely been another one of his strange sensual dreams. Sora's hand on his shoulder pulled his mind to where Axel's hands had been. He could still feel them on his chin, his cheek, in his hair. _Nope, he was pretty sure it had happened. _What was worse was, he wasn't sure that he minded. _Ugh. Focus on the conversation, _he told himself. _Fantasy is what had gotten him into this mess in the first place._

"Did you fall asleep in detention too? Your hair looks rough." He moved to try to fix Roxas's hair.

Roxas swatted his hand away. "_Okay,_ _mom. _Quit it."

Sora looked at him quizzically.

This was exactly what he was trying to avoid—Sora's weird brotherly concern_. _It hardly ever helped. Mostly it just made Roxas feel pathetic, like he was some sort of charity case for Sora. A kicked puppy. He didn't understand Roxas's dopey groundling problems anyway. They were beneath him. He definitely didn't have to deal with things like _I just made out with a sort of stranger and now may be questioning my sexuality but I also told my friends I was dating some girl that I haven't talked to in years. _Sora would probably just give him one of his mainstay sympathetic looks and then make him breakfast. _Like that really helped. _Sora just didn't get it. The worst problem Sora ever had to deal with was probably his friends fighting over who got to hang out with him on a Saturday night. Roxas's scowl deepened.

"I'm going to bed, see you in the morning." Roxas said none-too-politely, moving out of the way in a sort of huff.

"But you didn't have dinner!" Sora called after him.

Roxas slammed the door with an audible thud.


	8. Rock and a Hard Place

When Roxas awoke that morning, his vision was immediately acquainted with the sight of a million tiny little carpet fibers and a world tipped on its side. With the proximity, Roxas thought hazily that they looked like a field of fluffy off-colored blades of grass. _Kind of like the grass in his dream the other day—right before he woke up with his face in his cereal bowl._ Roxas groaned groggily, making a pathetic attempt to swipe the hair out of his face. He sat up quickly, the blood rushing to his head so quickly that it made him dizzy. Oh, so it was going to be one of _those_ mornings. _Chipper_. He felt the distinct feeling of a long strand of saliva breaking from his mouth as he moved. _Well, that wasn't gross at all. _He wiped at his chin, his eyes immediately moving to the side, noticing his bed at eye level. _And people complain about waking up on the wrong side of the bed. At least those people actually wake up _in _their beds. _He heaved himself off the floor with considerable effort and a languid groan.

The rest of the morning followed in suit—a slew of groggy images passing through his mind, narrated by a continuous inner monologue of sleep brain thoughts. When Roxas finally managed to—rather miraculously—dress himself and locate the kitchen, he wandered in to find the table already set. He narrowed his eyes, approaching the table slowly, his vision focusing to find a plate in the center of the table stacked with waffles. Roxas eyed it skeptically. It was a pretty mountainous platter of waffles, topped with whipped cream and strawberries. _Of course Sora would make him apology breakfast—A.K.A. guilt on a plate. _He glared at the display. His stomach betrayed him with an audible growl.

_Well, he couldn't really let good waffles go to waste. _With this change of heart—_or, rather, change of stomach_—Roxas sat down resignedly to the plate, beginning to numbly stuff his face. He tried to wipe the image of Sora's last crestfallen look at him from his mind, but it kept manifesting itself onto the plate, glinting off the valleys of syrup, appearing along the grid marks of the waffle mountains, showing up in the snowy whipped cream sliding down the landscape. He tried to make over-exaggerated chewing noises to drown out the sound of Sora's piteous voice ringing in his ears, but Sora's voice in Roxas's head was just about as persistent as _regular_ Sora. _Well, guilt on a plate, mission accomplished yet again. _

Instead of feeling forgiveness, Roxas merely felt riddled with guilt and resentment. He glared at the table, his vision glinting blurrily off the syrup that pooled on the plate. It was like Sora was trying to manipulate him_. It was as if he thought he could make one good meal and they would be buddy-buddy again and would go skipping off into the sunset._ Roxas sat back in his chair, working his jaw back and forth as he ruminated. Of course Sora would think that—he wasn't used to having _real_ human problems. _Well, it wasn't going to work this time._ Roxas wasn't going to let one little breakfast change how he felt. He was tired of the pity looks and sympathy breakfasts. If anything was pitiful, it was Sora's attempts to resolve problems with food. _Even if the waffles were a glorious piece of architecture_. Roxas pushed the plate away and was about to walk out the door when he noticed a sealed white envelope that had been wedged underneath the plate, addressed to Roxas with a little heart. _How thoughtful. _He deposited the unopened envelope in the trash as he walked out the door.

* * *

Roxas sat in third period, dully rolling his pencil around on his desk. A video about the stock market was droning on in the background, but Roxas only registered it as a dull buzzing in the back of his mind. He let out a strangled sigh. It was Friday, he really should've felt more energized about the weekend, but somewhere between the guilt trip for breakfast and realizing that he'd have to go home and face Sora and his stupid sympathetic glances after school, he'd felt a profound sense of detachment cloud his frame of mind and a foreboding weight settle in his chest. In the midst of his idleness, he noticed a sort of glow in his peripherals, coming from his backpack. He leaned down, digging around in his backpack until he located his phone—which was always inevitably sandwiched down at the _very _bottom. In the midst of his noisy shuffling, a few people turned in their seats to glare at him. Roxas gave a strained look of apology at them, sliding further down in his seat to avoid any more speculation. He clicked his phone on, quickly lowering the brightness to avoid further scornful looks from any of his apparently very _studious_ peers. _I mean, was it even really possible to pay attention to these videos? _He looked up at the video, detaching himself briefly from his thoughts.

"…_and this graphic is demonstrative of the three major secular market cycles of the last 100 years…"_

Roxas shook his head_. Yeah, nope. Fuzzy blades of grass were more interesting. _He returned his attention to his phone, noticing 2 new messages, piquing his interest. He clicked on the first one.

_"crosswalk, same time &amp; place?  
there's something I want to show you"_

Something stirred in Roxas's chest, building into a steady thrumming. _Axel._ He suddenly felt a wave of nausea overcome him, images from last night assaulting him all at once. He could feel Axel's hand in his hair, cupping his cheek. He could feel his own hand pressed up against Axel's chest, could feel the fabric bunching in his hand as he pulled Axel back down to him. _No, no, nonono. _Last night was a_ mistake. Clearly _Axel had _drugged_ him with his chocolate coffee soup concoction. He'd derailed Roxas's already depleted brain cells (_thanks, again, to Axel and his cancer stick carcinogens_) with high amounts of sugar and caffeine. He groaned, sliding down further in his seat. _Why did he feel like he was no longer in control of any portion of his life?_ The pencil in his hand suddenly let out a sharp snapping noise, yanking Roxas from his thoughts. He didn't bother looking up, knowing the angry glares would probably be waiting there for him if he did. He slowly opened his hand, letting the two pieces of pencil fall back down to the desk.

What did Axel want to _show_ him anyway? Another image briefly hijacked his mind, which he quickly batted away, his face taking on a shade of pink despite himself. He glanced around the room momentarily, in a new wave of self-consciousness. He suddenly felt very grateful for the mind-numbingly dull stock market video. With half the class nearly asleep and the others focused intently on the video, they all failed to notice Roxas having a sort of personal existential crisis. He slid his head down onto the desk, exhaling exasperatedly. There was _no way_ he was going to show his face in front of Axel again. What happened last night wasn't exactly something he could explain away. What was he supposed to say? _Sorry, Axel, I forgot that I was straight. My bad, won't happen again. We cool?_

He made a slight keening noise at himself, resolving to put the topic to rest. He wasn't going to see Axel again, and that was the end of it. It wasn't like Axel would care. Roxas was just a tiny blond-haired blip on his timeline, one out of many. The image of Demyx's face flashed briefly in his mind. _Yeah, he'd be _just_ fine._ Determined to get his mind off of the red-haired terror, he returned his attention to his inbox. He opened the second message.

_"Hey, can we talk when you get home?  
P.S. have a good day at school today! :]"_

If Roxas's head hadn't already thudded against the desk a couple of minutes ago, it surely would have then. He instinctively hit the delete button. Couldn't Sora take the _hint_ that maybe Roxas didn't want to sit through one of his one-sided sympathy lectures? Going home to the sympathy committee was definitely at the very _bottom_ of Roxas's to-do list. _God_, Roxas hated himself for what he was about to do. He thumbed a message quickly, before he could talk himself out of it again.

_"yeah, okay"_

He clicked send. It was like choosing between a rock and a hard place. Either way, Roxas wasn't getting out without being crushed in between. He held the phone in his hands, a little in disbelief as he stared at the phone thread, his eyes running over the message he just sent over and over. The feeling of regret began worming up inside of him. _Or was that just more nausea? _Either way, Roxas found himself frantically scanning the text options. Wasn't there some kind of delete button? _Cancel, cancel, please cancel._

The phone lit up again. Roxas's heart felt like it was contorting in his chest. He mechanically opened the message waiting for him on the screen.

_"I knew you couldn't resist me"_

He rolled his eyes, thumbing out a message in reply.

_"don't make me change my mind"_

Roxas knew he was in trouble, but something told him having to deal with Axel and his stupid grins was going to be at least a little bit more tolerable than Sora and his ridiculous sad smiles. Still, the image of him getting crushed between a rock and a hard place was not far from his mind.


	9. Voodoo

Roxas all but collapsed into his chair, half spilling his mixed fruit_—or so it was labeled, Roxas was never really sure exactly _what _it was—_onto the table.

"Whoa, watch it!" Hayner exclaimed, pulling his tray away from the spill, cradling it protectively under his arm.

Roxas rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, if the sugary formaldehyde doesn't kill you, that grease patty you're guarding will." He smiled sweetly at Hayner.

Hayner shrugged. "Food is food," he replied, taking a defiant bite of the burger.

"You know, we could've gone out to that new sushi place that just opened off of Park Place," Olette commented, poking the chicken sandwich on her plate with visible concern.

"Raw fish? Hell no," Hayner protested.

"Didn't you just say 'food is food'?" Roxas asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Well besides that, sushi is expensive. Cafeteria food is cheap. Does it look like I'm made out of money?" Hayner continued. "I mean, I know my looks are golden and all, but—"

"Do you want my chicken sandwich?" Olette interrupted.

"I mean yeah, if you don't want it," Hayner replied, plucking the chicken sandwich off the tray and dropping it onto his tray.

Olette shook her head, smiling. "The only foolproof way to get Hayner to shut up. Offer him free food." She pulled the tray back, picking the bag of chips off her tray. "Anyway, it was just a suggestion."

"Hayner is Olette's well-trained pup at this point. Good boy, Hayner!" Pence added, laughing.

"If you don't mind the fleas," Roxas replied. He glanced at Olette, expecting a laugh or added retort but Olette was looking off to somewhere else in the cafeteria.

Hayner held his finger up, attempting to retort, but he only managed to make a few garbled noises through the wad of food still in his mouth.

"Roxas?" Olette asked, her voice about an octave higher than usual. She returned from her gaze into the distance to look at Roxas.

_Great, the_ _voice. What now? _He looked at Hayner and Pence, a questioning look on his face. Hayner, his wide eyes rivaling Roxas's, shrugged quickly, pretending to look extra invested in the food in front of him. Pence returned to the math homework in front of him, scribbling fervently between bites of pizza sticks.

"Why don't you ask Naminé to sit with us?" Olette asked.

Roxas's stomach lurched in protest. _Oh yeah. That._ He hated this whole_ sort-of-lying_-to-his-friends thing. _Hell, who was he kidding? He was definitely lying to his friends. _He glanced across the cafeteria, noticing Naminé's bright blonde hair, somehow easily visible among the throng of activity in the cafeteria. Her hair looked nearly white as it reflected the harsh cafeteria lighting. She was sitting alone at a table off to the side, holding a sketchpad so close to her face that only her forehead was visible from where Roxas was sitting. A pang of guilt came resolutely from his chest. He turned to look back at Olette. Roxas briefly considered spilling his guts—confessing that the mysterious _not Naminé _was actually _really _not Naminé, but instead a flaming redhead (literally _flaming_). But as soon as he considered it, his imagination conjured the hurt, maybe even disgusted looks on his friends' faces. _Yeah, _no_, not today._

"Um, I don't know. She's kind of shy. I don't know if she would be comfortable," he added. _If they invited Naminé over, it would definitely_ _be uncomfortable. For everyone. _Roxas shifted uncomfortably. He picked up his fork and began stirring his fruit cup distractedly.

"Aw, Roxas, come on. We want her to be comfortable with us, we're your friends! Besides, she knows you and she knows me." Olette pulled her lips into a slight pout, her eyes shining imploringly.

Roxas eyed her skeptically. "What do you mean, 'she knows you'?" He gulped a little. If Olette was good friends with Naminé, that spelled huge trouble for Roxas. One girl-to-girl conversation and it would all be over. He tried feebly to hold a poker face, but his hand was starting to twitch. He went back to stirring the fruit.

"We've talked," Olette retorted, looking slightly offended.

"By 'you've talked' do you mean that _you_ talked for twenty minutes and Naminé just sort of stared and nodded at you a couple of times?" He was banking on what he remembered about Naminé. He couldn't remember much about their weird elementary relationship stint, but she'd been in his chemistry class two years ago. Once they were paired up as lab partners and they'd still only said about a total of seven words to each other the entire time.

Olette narrowed her eyes. "No, she was actually on the cheer squad last year," she replied simply.

Roxas sputtered. "_What?_" He realized quickly this looked bad on his part, considering boyfriends were probably supposed to actually know things about their girlfriends. _God, being a fake boyfriend was harder than being a real one. "_I mean, she—uh, she never told me that."

"I mean, she didn't actually _cheer _because after like the first practice she was basically sidelined the whole year from some ankle injury. But yeah. She usually sat in the grass or on the bleachers during practices, her face buried in that sketchbook."

"Oh," Roxas replied. He looked at Naminé again, trying to conjure up a look of affection. What was something he looked at affectionately? He stared harder, his eyes widening a little as her bright blue eyes turned to brilliant green and her blonde hair took on a hue of blazing red. _Oh, what, is that some kind of sick joke? _He smacked himself in the head.

"You know, she asked me for a picture of you once," Olette said, smiling a little.

"_What?" _Roxas briefly considered spearing a piece of the fruit and actually downing it—or even full on swallowing the entire contents. _Maybe he'd go unconscious and not have to deal with this whole situation anymore._

"I mean, I thought it was a little weird at the time, but now that the two of you are dating, it makes sense." She smiled a little dreamily, resting her head on the palms of her hands. "It's cute, now, actually."

"You mean, you _gave _it to her?" Roxas's asked, his voice rising incredulously. "Wait, _what _photo did you give her?"

Olette raised her eyebrows, skipping the subject. "Roxas, _that_ is not the point. The point is, you should ask Naminé to sit with us, right Hayner?"

"Oh, would you look at that, all finished! Better go throw away my tray and head to class," Hayner said shoving the last of his food in his mouth all at once, skirting off as quickly as possible.

"Pence?" Olette pressed.

"Oh, um, I just remembered, I'm supposed to be making up a test for—uh, government, right now. Gotta go!" Pence stammered with only slight coherence. He gave a half-hearted sheepish smile at Roxas before shuffling off.

Roxas rolled his eyes_. Thanks guys. Great acting skills, by the way._

"Boys," Olette sighed.

"_You're telling me_," Roxas breathed.

_Did he say that out loud?_

Olette furrowed her brow in confusion but before she could comment, the lunch bell rang.

_Thank God._ Roxas high-tailed it out of the cafeteria as quickly as he could.

* * *

Roxas eyed the crosswalk in the distance familiarly, pulling his car up slowly. He tried to ignore the fact that his stomach was busy tying itself in knots. He tried to ignore the thoughts in the back of his mind telling him not to stop the car here, telling him to just floor it and go home. He shook his head. _No, he could handle this. _Axel was leaning against the stop sign, his hair sort of blending in with the color of the road sign. For some reason, Roxas snorted at this.

Axel grinned, strolling up to Roxas's window. Roxas rolled the window down, determined to give Axel a bit of a hard time.

"Sorry, do I know you?"

"You know, I was thinking the same thing. Were you that guy at the gay bar last week making eyes at me?" Axel tilted his head, jutting his hip out.

Roxas rolled his eyes. "Shut up and get inside, already"

"Not the first time I've heard that."

Roxas scoffed, narrowing his eyes. He started rolling up the window.

"Hey! Come on, Rox." Axel reached through the window, curling his fingers around the glass.

"If you want to keep those, you should move them," Roxas replied simply.

"Interesting. What if I move you, instead? Do I get to keep you?" Axel crooned innocently. He opened the door, leaning in and wrapping his arms under Roxas and around his back, scooping him up bridal-style. Roxas immediately tensed, his face beginning to burn.

"Wha—hey! Axel, what the _hell_? Put me down!"

"Aw, but you said—"

"Axel! Seriously! "

Axel sighed. "Alright, fine." He walked over to the other side of the car, managing somehow to get it open while still wrangling Roxas in his arms. He deposited Roxas in the seat, wandering around to the other side and getting in.

"You're a dick," Roxas mumbled.

"You know, as a gay man, I don't really find that all that insulting." Axel replied.

Roxas ignored him, turning to glare out the window. He crossed his arms. _What kind of right did Axel have to manhandle him like that? _He shivered a little at the lack of contact, despite himself. _Great, more mutiny._

"Aw, Rox, don't get all sulky on me. Come on. As cute as it is, it makes me feel guilty."

Roxas gave him a feigned smile, but it came out more as him bearing his teeth.

"I told you I wanted to show you something. Come on, it'll be fun. Put on your seatbelt so I don't accidentally kill you on the way there," Axel prodded.

Roxas looked at him a little incredulously. "Why did you even bother asking me to come to the crosswalk if we were just going to go somewhere else? I could've picked you up at Demyx's. I've been there twice now." Roxas still couldn't help but spit out Demyx's name, despite trying to keep his voice as even as possible.

"Tsk. Roxas. I can't believe you're going to ignore my gesture. This is the place we met." He gestured around emphatically, as if that would somehow drive his point home.

Roxas stared at him. "Why would I want to be reminded of that?"

"I don't know, it's romantic and shit. Although, then again, in front of Demyx's is where we first made ou—"

"Okay, okay, I'm putting on my seat belt. Let's just go." Roxas tried feebly to fight the rouge that was again settling all over his cheeks.

Axel grinned. "Roxas, I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Roxas was following Axel again, eyeing the crumbling walkway. _Déjà vu, _he thought, _Axel leading me into some decrepit place, probably towards my inevitable demise. _Although, _technically_, last time he hadn't actually died, but he was still entertaining the idea that Axel had somehow drugged him, which was a worthy cause of concern.

Axel grabbed Roxas's hand. "Come onnnn, slow poke." He dragged Roxas down the stairs.

Roxas, a little stunned by the contact, couldn't help but notice how _warm_ Axel's hand was. He briefly wondered if his own hands were sweating. He tried to worm his hand out of Axel's but Axel wouldn't let go.

Suddenly Roxas lurched forward, only to rebound backwards from Axel's hand still clasping his. Having been sucked into his own thoughts, he'd failed to notice that Axel had stopped abruptly moments before.

"Whoa, someone's eager," Axel remarked, raising his eyebrows.

Roxas looked around, taking in the surroundings. He furrowed his brow.

_A train station?_

"What, are you too cheap to even take me for a crappy cup of coffee now? Gonna sit and watch the _glory of public transportation?"_

"Hell, Rox. You got me. Guess we can just go home now." Axel turned, beginning to walk away.

Roxas looked after him briefly, feeling something twist inside him as he looked at Axel's turned back getting further and further away. He sighed.

"Axel, wait!"

Axel stopped. He turned slowly around. Roxas couldn't place the look that was on his face. Roxas felt sort of terrible. He'd begun trying to think of some acceptable way to apologize when Axel interrupted him.

"I knew you'd be calling my name sooner or later. I guess that makes this sooner."

Roxas picked up a crumbled piece of rock, hurling it in Axel's direction.

"Hey, watch it!"

"What are we even doing here anyway? Are we catching a train to join the travelling circus that _you_ crawled out of?"

Axel laughed, wandering back over to Roxas. "No. We're waiting." He sat down against a paved wall, stretching one arm behind him. He patted the ground next to him, looking up at Roxas expectantly.

Roxas looked incredulous. "_Waiting_? Gee, I'm glad I came. Wouldn't have wanted to miss this for the world."

"Hey, don't be mister presumptuous. I didn't even tell you what we're waiting for."

Roxas sighed, shifting his weight into his hip. He crossed his arms.

"What are we waiting for, then?"

"Oh, I can't tell you that. It's a surprise." Axel replied simply.

Roxas groaned. He picked up another rock and threw it at Axel, only this time Axel caught it.

"Aw, thanks, Roxas. You shouldn't have. It's what I always wanted." He cuddled the rock affectionately against his cheek.

Roxas ambled over, sliding down next to Axel. He immediately punched Axel in the arm.

"Hey, check this out," Axel spoke suddenly, excitement in his voice, completely ignoring Roxas's attempted attack. He held up the rock in his hand, in front of Roxas's face.

Roxas stared at him. "Okay? It's a rock. I don't –"

"Shh! Just watch." Axel placed the rock in his other hand, closing his palm around it. He waved his free hand over the top. "Okay, now say the magic word."

"What? I don't know the _magic word_."

"Hmmm. You're right. Try 'Axel's sexy'."

Roxas again was looking at Axel blankly. He snorted. "I am _not _saying that."

"Fine, I guess you don't believe in magic. That's sad for you." He drew his long legs up under his chin, peering at Roxas over them, his eyes shining and his lips drawn into a slight pout.

Roxas rolled his eyes. "_Okay_, okay. I'll say it, but _not_ for you. I'm saying it so no magic forces come out to smite me for not believing in magic." He took a deep breath. _"_Axel's—Axel's sexy."

"Roxas, I didn't know you felt that way," Axel placed his free hand on his chest, feigning surprise.

Roxas immediately smacked him on the shoulder. "If I don't see magic in about five seconds, I'm going to find the biggest rock here and clobber you with it."

Axel placed his finger on his lip as though he were contemplating something. "You know, I'm not sure if you said the magic words loud enough for this to work. Could you say the magic words again?"

"Ugh. Axel's sexy," Roxas said, this time a little louder.

"Hmm. Little louder, maybe?"

"Axel's sexy," Roxas replied flatly but louder, rolling his eyes.

"You know—I think the magic gods are hard of hearing. You should try yelling the magic words."

"I'm pushing you in front of the first moving train I see."

Axel laughed. "Okay, fine, no need. It was probably loud enough. Watch," He opened his hand, showing the rock again, picking it up and holding it out for Roxas to examine. He then placed the rock back into his hand, closing his hand around it and waving his opposite hand over his closed hand. He then opened his closed hand to reveal an empty hand, sans rock.

"Is that all—"

Axel was then reaching toward Roxas. _Oh god. _His hand was suddenly brushing against Roxas's hair. Roxas could smell the smoke and spice clouding his senses again. He gulped, again rendered immobile. _I said I believed in magic and this is how I get repaid? _Roxas stared up at Axel, wide doe eyes meeting Axel's heavily lidded ones. Roxas nearly relented, almost leaning a little toward Axel in an odd stint of some kind of magic hypnosis. Suddenly, Axel's hand was pulling away from Roxas's hair, retreating until it was again a safe distance away from Roxas. He opened his hand, revealing the small gray rock sitting in his hand.

_Did he really just fall for that the 3rd time? God, he was dumb._

"You really did crawl out from a circus, didn't you?"

Axel laughed, his voice deep and melodic. "No, I just know a few magic tricks. Although, if the circus thing turns you on, I'll go with it." He winked.

"You still have that rock? I'd like to gouge it into your eyeball. Hand it over, please."

"Mmm, tempting, but no. I'd prefer to have both my eyes. All the better to see you with, my dear," he purred, grinning coquettishly, taking Roxas's hand.

"You know what magic trick I'd really like to see? You making yourself disappear," Roxas replied, smiling sweetly.

"Tsk, feisty. Here, let me show you another magic trick."

"Does this one also involve you stroking my hair? Because if so, no thank you."

"Give me your hands." Axel turned cross-legged to face Roxas, pulling Roxas's hands towards his lap.

"Hey, whoa, hold on—" Roxas's eyes widened, visibly disturbed by where Axel was pulling his hands.

Axel laughed especially hard at this. Roxas glared at him, waiting for Axel's laughter at him to subside. Axel kept laughing, until he was nearly doubled over on the ground. Roxas shook his head, cracking a smile.

"Hahaha—sorry—hahaha. Okay—heh. Here, open your hand."

Roxas relented.

"See, nothing there, right? Okay, now close your hand and close your eyes."

Roxas glowered at him.

"Come on, I won't bite."

"Says the one who was just quoting the big bad wolf!"

Axel pulled the pouting face again.

Roxas groaned, letting his eyes fall shut—_if only to stop having to see that sad excuse of a puppy dog face._

Axel's two hands closed around Roxas's. Roxas could again feel the warmth emanating from Axels' hands, warming Roxas's hand by conduction. He could hear the soft sound of Axel breathing. Roxas struggled to make his own breaths come in even waves, but they kept getting caught in his throat every time Axel lightly thumbed Roxas's hand. The soft movements were sending heated vibrations through his hand, making him impossibly scatter-brained. He envied the calm rhythm of Axel's breathing. He wanted to do something that would throw Axel off his game, something that would make his lungs stop, his palms sweaty, make him at a loss for words and snappy comebacks. A couple of rather provocative ideas pervaded his mind, making him squirm uncomfortably. He wanted to throw Axel off his game, but not _that _badly. He suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable and more than a little self-conscious. He could feel Axel's hands squeeze his tightly before letting go completely.

"Okay, roll your hand around a little."

Roxas wrinkled his forehead, but again conceded to Axel's demands—w_hich, by the way, was not going to become a regular occurrence. _Roxas shivered to imagine that, especially considering some of Axel's crackpot ideas and sexual inclinations. He slightly moved his hand, feeling something solid suddenly rolling around in his hand.

He opened his eyes, finding Axel gazing at him with a momentarily wistful look on his face. _Um, that's not weird at all. _Roxas opened his hand, finding the small stone sitting in his hand.

Axel grinned. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Your magic trick was to give me my weapon of choice back? You may be good at magic tricks but you're not too smart."

"What can I say? It's worth it to see you smile."

Roxas flopped to lie on his back, immediately regretting it when his head sharply met the unforgivingly cold, hard ground. He hissed a little in pain. "How much longer do we have to wait?" Roxas whined.

Axel looked up. Roxas followed his gaze, noticing a small screen displaying a few train arrival times.

"I'd say not too much longer," he replied, reaching in his back pocket and retrieving a pack of cigarettes. He fumbled in his other pocket for the lighter.

Roxas stared up at the sky, wrinkling his nose as the smell of smoke pervaded his senses. He coughed, waving at the air. "Are you _planning_ on dying at the age of 30?"

Axel snorted. "Jesus, Roxas, 30? Does _anybody_ plan that? 25 would be the age to do it." He smiled wryly.

"Well, unlike you, I'd actually prefer to, you know, _not_ turn my lungs into an ash tray," Roxas spoke into the air, not bothering to look specifically at Axel.

"Your lung span seemed just fine last night," Axel remarked.

Roxas groaned. _Good lord, did he really need to bring that up? _He turned on his side, away from Axel, hiding his blush. "On second thought, keep smoking. Maybe it'll kill me first."


	10. Ghost in You

"Roxas! Shit, Rox, get up! You're gonna miss it!"

Axel's voice jolted Roxas out of his peaceful position, lying with his eyes closed, listening to the wind waxing and waning like a rhythmic wave. Axel had gone uncharacteristically quiet in the last few minutes, and Roxas had relaxed in his presence, even when he'd heard the soft rustling behind him and felt the pair of warm arms lifting him up and encircling his waist. Instead, he'd merely smiled softly, an incoherent murmur on his lips, shifting to curl more comfortably against the strangely cozy wall behind him. Cozy and contented, Roxas only barely perceived the way the wall was rising and ebbing in a way that rivaled the breaths and sighs of the wind.

Now the hands were on his shoulders, pulling him upright and shaking him gently.

Roxas groaned at the absence of a human pillow. "Five more minutes…"

"Come on, Rox. Open your eyes...Please?"

A warm hand was suddenly on Roxas's face, prying at his eyelid. His right eye forced open, Roxas found, through the jostling of his line of vision, bright green eyes boring into his. Roxas swatted at Axel's arm.

"Okay, I'm up. I'm up." He rubbed at his eyes, stifling a yawn. "What is it?"

"Jeez, finally," Axel breathed, leaning back on his heels. He seemed to eye Roxas quizzically for a second, looking amused. Roxas immediately moved to wipe his sleeve against his chin, wondering briefly and with great horror if he'd accidentally drooled on Axel in his sleep._ Hadn't he had enough embarrassment for one day? _His hand then shot up to his hair, attempting to smooth it back into some semblance of normalcy.

Axel merely waited, saying nothing. When Roxas had finished fidgeting about his appearance, Axel placed his hand lightly under Roxas's chin—which, to Roxas's chagrin, _tickled a bit_—directing it toward the train tracks. "Hear the train, way down there?" He gestured to somewhere off in the distance.

Roxas blinked rapidly, squinting through the film of grogginess clouding his eyes. His eyes centered on a small speck, chugging sluggishly but tirelessly towards them. It was then that Roxas noticed how dark it was getting out, noticing the sun barely visible beyond the horizon. _How long had he been out for?_

"Yeah?"

"Well," Axel said, a sober look overcoming his face. He leaned in closely, a look of intensity on his face. "The legend says that the train that comes through here at sunset—" he paused, his eyes shining with something that Roxas couldn't quite place. He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice dramatically. "No driver, no conductor, no passengers…_no_ _return."_

Roxas tutted, shoving Axel hard on the chest, laughing. "You asshole, you woke me up for that? That's just an urban legend." He shook his head, the smile still taking quiet residence on his lips. _Axel was something else. A total quack, but, something else._

Axel narrowed his eyes, his smile precariously poised on one side of his face. "You're one of those people who don't clap for Tinkerbell, aren't you?"

Roxas rolled his eyes. "What does that have to do with anything? Besides, that's a _children's story_. Tinkerbell gets better no matter what!" He retorted.

"Still, you would've let her die, you heartless bastard. You don't believe enough in magic."

"Hey, I am not heartless," Roxas fired back.

"Really?" Axel asked, leaning in closer. He grinned. "Prove it."

Roxas was suddenly acutely aware of how close Axel's face was. He was even more acutely aware of how close Axel's _lips_ were to his. Not to mention the slew of rather suggestive and disturbing images that pervaded Roxas's mind as he considered the actual _implications_ of what Axel was asking him for. Roxas's mouth went impossibly dry.

"Wha-wait—I, uh, I don't—"

Axel snickered, ruffling Roxas's hair playfully. "Best magic trick yet—how to make Roxie's knowledge of the English language disappear."

"Shut up."

Roxas could feel his face heating up again as he stood up, turning deliberately away from Axel as he pretended to be preoccupied with dusting himself off. For a second he could hear the pulsating rhythm of his heartbeat buzzing loudly in his ear. That's when he realized the noise wasn't coming from the mutinous thing beating in his chest; it was coming from just up the train tracks.

The two leaned forward in mutual fascination, a wordless stillness falling between them. Roxas attempted to lean onto the tips of his toes, craning a little to be able to peer into the windows of the train from where he was standing. He briefly envied how mutantly _tall _Axel was. In the brief moment before the train came into view, Roxas found himself sucking in a breath. He didn't know why he was suddenly acting so anxious to see the train. It wasn't like it was _really_ going to be some kind of ghost train_...was it_? _God, was he really buying into Axel's stupid story now? Jesus Roxas, first the depleted brain cells and drugged coffee, and now what? Falling under Axel's weird voodoo spell?_

And suddenly it was there, crossing in front of them. Roxas's eyes immediately scoured the train, zeroing in on a man shielded behind the slightly fogged glass of the front window. He held a radio mouthpiece in one hand, and, as the train grated to a screeching stop, he waved briefly at them with the other hand. Roxas let out the breath, not realizing that he'd been holding it for so long. Something in his chest burned as he looked at the _not-so-ghost_ train. The doors of the train opened, a spare few individuals filing out. Roxas looked at Axel.

"_This_ is your ghost train?"

Axel shrugged, putting his weight in one bony hip. "You just didn't believe hard enough. You didn't clap for Tinkerbell."

Roxas rolled his eyes. "Oh, so it's my fault your crackpot theory fell through?"

"Yeah. I mean, I can throw all the pixie dust I want at you, but my little Roxie won't fly unless he gets over himself and believes in a little magic."

Roxas moved to sock Axel in the arm, but instead Axel merely caught his hand.

"It's okay though, you're still my favorite little cynic," he said, punctuating the end of the sentence with a quick kiss on Roxas's captive hand before releasing it.

"Yeah, and you're my favorite fantasist," he replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he moved to wipe his hand off on his shirt. He tried to drown out the odd tingling feeling that was permeating his hand, but before he could figure out how to do so, Axel was taking and reclaiming his hand yet again and pulling him forward.

"Come on, we're gonna miss the train."

Before Roxas could begin to voice confusion or protest or _any_ of the barrage of emotions that were running through his head, Axel was already pulling (_more like dragging_) him through the open doors and onto the train. _Jeez, for someone built like a twig, Axel was surprisingly strong…_And since _when_ had he been considering _Axel's build_, anyway? He shook his head, dispelling the thoughts.

As they sat down, Roxas looked around at the sparsely populated train. Of the few people that were on the train, many of them asleep or staring off with unfocused eyes, he recognized none of them. Slightly unsettled by the foreign atmosphere, Roxas was again plagued by thoughts of distrust. He still had no idea who _this guy_ was—_a redhead with piercing green eyes and teardrop tattoos…which, by the way, weren't those for murderers?_—and yet he was letting him drag him to all sorts of foreign places…possibly to never return again, for all he knew.

"…_no return"_

Axel's whispered tale about the ghost train echoed in his head. To Roxas, as it bounced ominously around in his head, it sounded more like a warning. _Yes, Axel seemed nice, and yes, Axel graduated from the same school as him, but that didn't mean anything. _Maybe he was just a _very _elaborate planner, befriending his intended victims—_and buying them coffee and kissing them—_ before kidnapping them_. _

Roxas squirmed a little, having been reminded of the previous night. He couldn't _really_ be sure—_he'd never kissed a murderer or kidnapper, _or really _anyone_ for that matter—but he somehow doubted it would be like that. It would've been rough or drawn blood or something, maybe. But it hadn't been anything like that. And no matter how many times Roxas tried to imagine Axel looking evil and murderous, the image that kept coming up was the way Axel had looked at him right before he'd kissed him. It wasn't cold or calculating or any of those things. It was just _soft_, sandwiched somewhere in the spectrum between awe and longing. It made something stir inside Roxas's chest.

Roxas turned to look at Axel, who was sitting backwards in his seat on his knees, peering out the window, his hands placed against the glass. _Honestly, he didn't look like he was planning anything, _Roxas thought. In fact, he just looked…childlike and… _happy_. _Like someone who still believes in Tinkerbell_, he thought.

It was then that Axel turned to look back at him. For some reason, Roxas didn't look away in embarrassment, despite knowing that Axel had caught him blatantly staring at him. A smile snaked its way onto his lips instead.

Axel pulled on a matching smile. He settled down into his seat. A comfortable silence settled over them. When he finally spoke, it came softly.

"You know, today was supposed to be the day that I headed back out of town. I figured I wouldn't really want to hang around too long after the…uh, funeral services were over." He took a measured breath, reaching out and smoothing a piece of Roxas's hair.

Roxas couldn't bring himself to mind. He merely nodded.

"Apparently I forgot to account for the freak chance of meeting a cute blond that would want nothing to do with me," he smiled, before continuing. "…and that I would want _everything_ to do with."

A tiny part of Roxas warmed at this, feeling the sudden impulse to kiss Axel, but the majority of Roxas's thoughts overruled and he quickly repressed it—_thank God_, _for once his body was acting like a democracy again_. What he didn't understand was—_why him_? Axel had said himself that he went to school with Sora, his _better half_, according to just about everyone else. Why hadn't he pulled out all the romantic stops on him? I mean, they even _looked_ the same…only Sora was the one with the glowing smile, and the mile long list of friends, and the amazing sports track record and the stellar grades. Roxas was just..._Roxas_. He rolled his eyes, souring on the idea. _Axel and Sora_. He shuddered.

"Axel, we barely know each other. You're a stranger. Why do you act like you _care_ so much?"

Roxas thought he saw hurt flash through Axel's eyes for a moment. Roxas's chest seized a little, feeling suddenly apologetic. He blinked at Roxas, his face blank. It looked strange—Axel not smiling at him.

"Well, I may be a stranger to you, but you're not exactly a stranger to me."

Roxas furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Sorry, that came out weird. I didn't, like, stalk you or anything." He smiled sheepishly. "But before I graduated, I saw you around school all the time, usually hanging around with your group of friends. You know, the cute brunette girl, the kind of chubby one, and the blond one?"

Roxas nodded, a little taken aback. "Olette, Pence, and Hayner," he said quietly, more to himself than to Axel.

"Yeah," he smiled. "I mean, sure, you were pretty cute then, too, but, more than that, I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew you somehow. Ah, hell, that sounds weird, too, doesn't it?" He scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly. "But I felt like you reminded me of someone I knew a long time ago or something. I did briefly consider flunking so I could hang around a year longer, but you probably don't go for the deadbeat type."

Roxas shook his head too, smiling a little. For some reason, he was thinking about that dream he'd had a few days ago, filled with fire and brimstone and ending with his head cradled in the safety of the soft dewy grass. He looked at Axel, his red hair spiked precariously like crawling flames, his green eyes shining. For some reason, he understood what Axel meant.

"Well, you know me now, I guess," he breathed.

"Yeah," Axel agreed, smiling. "Yeah I do."

He reached over, lacing his fingers in Roxas's. Roxas did nothing, merely sat and let it happen, still thinking quietly about the dream. All of the emotions in that dream reminded him of being around Axel. The fear, the anxiety, the nerves, but also the calm, the security, the familiarity. He leaned over, laying his head against the crook between Axel's shoulder and collar bone. He didn't know why, but it felt right.

"So…where are we going, again?"


	11. (Mixed) Messages

Roxas approached the front door at a snail's pace, eyeing it as though it were ready to swing ajar at any moment. He knew it was some ungodly hour and, mostly out of spite, he pretended not to care. But, if he was being fully honest with himself, he was really just far too afraid to pull out his phone to check, knowing an inbox full of unopened text messages and a voice mail box exceeding capacity would probably be waiting for him. He groaned, relenting merely to _peek_ at the time, for curiosity's sake—y'know, _after_ he was finished being temporarily blinded by the backlight of his phone. _5:53_. _Damn, had he really been out that long?_ Roxas mussed his hair a little sheepishly, chalking it up partly to that thirty minute _goodbye session_ in the car in front of Demyx's house. _And people say they hate goodbyes._

Of course, as suspected, immediately a notification that he had 13 unread messages, 8 missed calls, and 5 voicemail messages popped up, before he could dismiss it. Roxas rolled his eyes, exasperated. He was _seventeen_, practically _eighteen. _It was no longer Sora's job to supervise his Friday nights like some kind of overzealous babysitter. Frankly, it was none of his business whether or not Roxas was off throwing rocks at redheads or catching ghost trains. And it was _definitely_ not his business whether or not Roxas was _kissing _said redhead, but that was beside the point.

With an easy flick of the thumb, Roxas deleted the messages without reading a single one of them. He sighed, smiling a little at the nice, tidy sight of an empty inbox. A clean slate. However, the smile quickly dissipated when he raised his eyes towards his adversary once again—the front door. He readjusted his gait, squaring his knees like he was readying for a battle.

Roxas steeled himself, taking in a breath. Sure, deleting messages was easy. But facing Sora in person? Not so easy. Roxas mentally pictured being able to delete Sora with a swipe of the thumb. Or at least being able to put him on mute. He quirked his lips into the semblance of a smile again at that. Shortly after, remembering the situation at hand, he shook his head. He spent _way _too much time mulling over inner monologues in his head. _It was now or never_. Well, _not really_, but he ought to go inside now anyway. Besides, he had nothing to worry about. _Surely_ Sora had fallen asleep by now. _Right?_

Roxas crept towards the door, reaching into his jacket pocket and, upon meeting the feeling of cool metal against his hand, retrieving a small key. As delicately as he could, he turned the key in the socket and pressed his body weight against the door, listening for the soft pop of it dislodging from the doorway. He let out a breath that had long overstayed its welcome in his lungs.

Roxas peered into the darkness of the entryway, shutting the door behind him as softly as possible. He wandered into the living room which, too, was shrouded in darkness. He sighed softly out of relief. He was about to turn to meander down the hallway and collapse into the reprieve of his bed when he heard a creaking noise from the direction of the kitchen. Roxas flinched, purposely keeping his eyes closed for several moments longer, willing himself to pretend that he hadn't just heard that. _It was probably just a figment of his sleep-starved imagination._ At least, that was what he thought until he heard it a second time. And by that time, Roxas's heart was beating so hard against his chest, he could swear that he felt a bruise forming.

Against his will—_and, really, what was new_—his eyes opened and his legs began moving mechanically, of their own accord, toward the kitchen. _Clearly, his mind no longer listened to reason at all._ People are supposed to run _away_ from danger, not toward it. Unless, of course, they're in a horror movie and are destined to die. _Great. _Roxas rounded the corner, all the while visualizing all the ways that this situation could go horribly, horribly wrong. _Like finding Sora welding a cage to stick Roxas in for the rest of his life so he wouldn't go out and kiss strangers until 6:00 AM on a Friday night._ What he found, instead, was the sight of Sora sitting upright at the kitchen table. Roxas could feel the individual hairs on his arms all stand up on end, his lungs seizing. Immediately his brain began scrambling for some sort of excuse. (_Not an apology, though, mind you.)_ _Um…he, uh, fell asleep during detention and accidentally got locked inside the school? Or he could say that he got kidnapped. That _might be a little more accurate_._ That's when he looked closer, squinting his eyes in the darkness. Well, it was Sora, he'd gotten that much right. And he was sitting _sort of_ upright.

Roxas inched a little closer, still cradling the same breath in his lungs. _Axel was right—Roxas's lung span was actually kind of amazing._ Through the blackness, he could see Sora materializing into visibility. He was sitting up, his head held upright by his arms. His elbows were resting against the table. _He was posed almost like the condescending Willy Wonka meme_, Roxas thought, momentarily amused. But he was also _definitely_ asleep. His eyes were closed. His head was tilted sideways against his hands, resting heavily. His chest was rising and lowering in languid waves. As Roxas quietly observed Sora sleeping, his muscles visibly slackened. _You know, when he was asleep, he wasn't so bad._ Without the pitiful looks in his eyes and the unnecessary words of encouragement and sympathy pouring out of his mouth, he was actually quite tolerable. It was _awake _Sora that made Roxas want to dive under his bed and never come out. _Or go out on the ghost train and never come back._

In the middle of this mental soliloquy, Roxas had failed to notice Sora slowly rousing awake.

"Erm—aah" he yawned, blinking and raising his head, squinting through the duskiness of the room. He leaned forward almost drunkenly. "R-Roxas? Is that you?"

Roxas merely stared. _Speak of the devil._

"God, what time is it?"

Roxas briefly considered playing it off like he'd been home and had just gotten up for an early morning walk or something. The only problem was—he was still wearing the clothes from yesterday and he had no idea how long Sora had managed to stay up. _Okay that was actually two problems. _He shook his head. _Whatever, let Sora fret a little. Having some actual real-life conflict might do some good for him, considering how little he experienced it._

"It's six."

"Jesus, Roxas, did you just get home? Do you know how long I was up waiting for you to come home—"

_And the beast awakens_. Roxas's vision shifted, taking quiet occupancy at the corner of a kitchen cabinet. It was easier if you didn't look at him.

"—at least could have called! I had no idea where you were!"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Yeah." Sora let out a breath of frustration, placing his hands on his temples and stopping himself.

_Oh look, Sora getting flustered about something. That's a first._

"Roxas, I know you don't think you have to listen to me. But I'm basically responsible for you and—"

"I know. Because I'm _such_ a fucking liability to your perfect little life. Sorry that I'm your goddamn _obligation. _I didn't ask for our parents to run off and leave their kids behind for a business trip and then decide to never come back."

"Roxas—"

"You know, they probably figured that after raising a perfect kid like you, they didn't need to stick around for the _other one_. Anything after you would just be a disappointment, right?"

"Roxas, that's not—"

"Save it. I'm going to bed."

"Can you at least tell me where you were? Were you—were you being safe? You weren't, like, doing drugs or—"

"I was swapping spit with some redhead I found on the street." Roxas cocked his head, smiling sweetly. "Night."

And with that, Roxas turned around, feeling as though he'd gained the upperhand, and headed for his room.

* * *

Roxas lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He could feel his blood pressure slowly coming down as the minutes ticked by, distancing him further and further from his run-in with Sora in the kitchen. He let a sigh escape from his mouth, visualizing it like a wintry gasp of air rising into the atmosphere. The fact that he was imagining things was probably a manifestation of the fact that his brain was in dear, sweet need of sleep, but it also made sense. The cold comforted him. It reminded him of sea salt ice cream on his tongue and the way Axel's arms wrapped warmly around him when he'd begun to shiver from the night air. It made him picture the way the town had looked beneath their dangling feet, as they sat on the old clock tower, overlooking the horizon. It reminded him of the way his lips found their way to Axel's. Familiar. Natural. Like there was suddenly nothing more normal in the world.

It was Roxas's cold and pale melding into Axel's fire-red and searing heat.

Roxas sighed, curling into himself, letting himself fall victim to the throes of sleep. That's when he felt a buzzing sensation. Blearily and a little annoyed, Roxas reached for his phone. One new message. He flicked it open.

**_Axel:  
_**_"Hey, you didn't respond to my message. Did you make it home okay? Or are you already asleep, dreaming about me?"_

Roxas shook his head, typing back.

_"Both. Can I see you tomorrow?"_

The phone buzzed in response before he could put the phone back down and wait.

_"You bet. You know where I'll be."_


	12. One More Thing

Roxas awoke with his phone still cradled in his hand and a dreamy smile stretched across his face. He sighed quietly, knowing it was probably afternoon, considering what time his head had hit the pillow. But honestly? He didn't care. He wasn't sure what exactly had changed last night, but Roxas felt—he didn't quite know how to put it—_different_. He was starting to think that maybe his mutinying body had actually known better than he did all along, which he admitted not without difficulty. The heat that burned in his cheeks, the warmth that pooled in his stomach, the way his heartbeat would race, the violent thud against his chest. He was finally feeling things and his knee-jerk reaction was to push it all away and return to the mind-numbing monotony of his day in and day out? He was an idiot.

Roxas turned to stare up at the ceiling, his thoughts stretching above him like a film reel. Not too long ago, his head plastered against the steering wheel, Roxas spurned his hollow existence. His life had been like a TV running on fast forward—a blur of lackluster events that all ran together, like watery paint dripping down a canvas into a muddled gray mess. He'd been sitting passenger side to his life, watching everything slip by with zombie-like indifference. He looked forward to the barrenness of sleep, to the tendrils of oblivion pulling him slowly into unconsciousness. At least sleep was a justifiable nothingness—unlike his own life. He had no excuse for that. It just _was_.

Streaks of fiery red and emerald green. The russet color of chocolate and coffee and cinnamon. The crisp white lines marking the crosswalk. The charcoal hue of the smoke that rose from the end of his cigarette. The brilliant artificial blue of sea salt ice cream. The pale blue hue of Roxas's lips moments before they were being covered with Axel's. Roxas had been too busy looking at the muddled gray mess pooling at his feet to look up at the colors running down the canvas. The murky gray mess was merely a byproduct of the masterpiece forming before him. And excuse him if that was the cheesiest string of thoughts ever to be thought by a teenage boy, but, _fuck_, he was having a revelation here.

He'd spent such a terribly long time feeling numb. And then he met Axel and had begun to feel all sorts of things. And he'd hated it. He'd hated the way Axel's smirk made his legs turn to gelatin and his mind go blank. He'd violently spurned the way that his voice made Roxas's heart thump so hard against his chest that he could swear it was going to wrench itself from his chest and serve itself to Axel on a silver platter. It was the confusion, the head rush, the way that Roxas's name took comfortable, familiar residence on Axel's lips. It was the feeling of heat in his cheeks, pooling in his stomach, fleeting and flush against his lips. It was the taste of cinnamon and smoke and sea salt ice cream. And, yeah, maybe he'd cursed Axel for the sleepless nights. But, _God_, he was tired of sleeping.

Roxas turned on his side, chewing on his lip pensively, knowing that none of these words in his head would ever make themselves known to Axel. Not like that, anyway. He didn't know how to put these things into words that made sense, especially not after he'd spent so long denying every single stray thought that might implicate him of being anything but the straight, sheltered boy he'd thought that he was. He sighed. He wasn't even completely sold on the idea that he _was_ gay. I mean, he'd never looked at Hayner or Pence or any other guy in that way—_thank God_. He wasn't even sure that he liked guys. But if the smile still stretched across his face was telling of anything, it was that he could be sure of one thing. He liked _Axel_. And he hoped that was enough.

* * *

With a foot still in the door between wakefulness and dreamy meditations, Roxas nearly had a heart attack when the phone cradled in his hand began blaring some godawful generic ringtone. He was not proud of the fact that he still hadn't managed to change the default ringtone to something that he actually _liked_ hearing at max volumes, but his annoyance with it was rivaled only by his laziness. He was also not proud of the terribly _un_-masculine yelp that sprang from his lips, but he quickly recovered by pulling the phone to his ear and answering as coolly as he could.

"Hey."

Olette's voice came through on the other end, laced with a clear sense of urgency. "Roxas, where are you? Didn't you get my text?"

"Text?" Roxas squinted confusedly, his vision unfocusing. He scrambled through his memories of the previous night. _Axel. Axel. Axel. _Axel_. Umm_. _Sneaking in. Fighting with Sora_—oh. He could see it pretty clearly now, as was the case with most of his royal screw-ups. _Memory could be a cruel mistress_. He replayed the moment carefully in his mind. The whole deleting-his-entire-inbox thing. Yeah_. _At the time, it had been a great exercise in self-empowerment. _Maybe_ he should've checked to see the senders of the texts and voicemails _before_ he deleted them, but hey, it was 6 AM and he was maybe sort of love drunk off of Axel. So sue him.

Something not entirely resembling human speech screeched across the line before Roxas realized it was Olette's noise of inherent disapproval.

"No, no, yeah I got your text. I—uh, what was it that you wanted again?"

"I told you that the gang and I wanted to go for coffee today. And I apparently mistook your signature radio silence for confirmation. _Are you even out of bed_?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, totally. Sorry I just—had to, um—" _think of something, think of something, God please think of something—_"tend to Sora! He's sick. Yeah. Woke up vomiting _all_ over the place. I just need to take a quick shower and—"

"Come to my place first and we'll all carpool, alright? Hey, I think that's Pence at the door. You alright to get yourself over here in the next twenty minutes or do I need to come drag you out of there by your feet?"

He laughed, relaxing a little now that Olette's voice had resumed its normal tone.

"Probably not. I don't sleep with pants on."

"Toooo much information. Eugh. Just—get your butt in gear. Oh and Roxas? One more thing."

"Hm?"

"Naminé's coming too. Anyway, gotta go. See you soon!"

The sound of the phone clicking off was barely audible over the way his stomach leapt into his throat. He stared blankly at the ceiling. _Naminé_. Fuck. _Take note kiddies, lying to your friends will always come back to bite you in the ass. _He sighed loudly and over-dramatically, hoping to take the edge off the anxiety brewing in his nerves. It was futile. How was he possibly going to pull this off? Maybe he should just tell them about Axel and—oh. Oh no_. _Axel. _No, this was not happening to him._ Roxas fumbled for his phone, pulling up the message thread from last night with jumpy fingers. _Maybe he'd just dreamed the whole making plans with Axel thing? _He had been known to have rather _vivid_ dreams of romanticism involving a certain redhead.

_Can I see you tomorrow?_

_You bet. You know where I'll be._

Nope, not a dream. Perfect. Right when he had finally come to his senses that he liked the tall redheaded terror with that stupid, goofy, really _heart melting_ grin, he was going to bail on him—to keep up the charade that he was dating someone else. _A girl_, at that. He was a terrible person. But, seriously, what else could he do? He couldn't just admit to his friends that one—he had blatantly lied to their faces, _multiple times_—and two—he was sort of entirely smitten with a dude. They'd never talk to him again.

He sighed miserably. He would really rather_ not_ try to debut his mediocre acting career by pretending to date a girl he barely knew. He'd much rather drive by familiar white streaks, fist his hands in familiar red streaks, and kiss the life out of someone without a trace of acting at all. But obviously he wasn't going to have his way. Roxas groaned the distressed sound of a thousand tortured teenage souls into his pillow. His fingers were itching uncomfortably to just thumb out a simple message to Axel that, hey, his brother was vomiting all over the place, so he was going to have to cancel. That would work right? He guessed. It was better than _hey Axel, I gotta go pretend to date some girl. Some other time? _He shook his head in spite of himself, thumbing out his signature excuse—which also happened to involve Sora being in distress, which was sort of a plus.

_"Hey Axe, turns out my brother caught some kind of bug and I have to stay home and take care of him.  
Raincheck?"_

Roxas let out another pained groan, this time not muffling it with the pillow. He had the very distinct feeling that he was being suffocated by his own growing web of lies. He had the even worse sinking feeling that he was about to make one of the top ten worst mistakes of his life. And memory could be a really cruel mistress. _Better get a good picture, because it's probably going to last awhile._


	13. Exit Lucky Stars

When Roxas had finally wrenched himself from his bed _and_ from the slew of stormy thoughts predicting his impending doom, given himself a half-hearted inner pep talk, and popped in and out of the shower, he realized he'd totally exceeded Olette's twenty minute time limit. So, he decided to bypass meeting up at Olette's altogether. No big deal. First hurdle of his web of lies? Easy. He thumbed out a message.

**Roxas:  
**_"Hey Lette, what's the address? Meet you guys there, ok?"_

He really should've recognized the address when she'd responded. He _really_ should have noticed when he waltzed right up to the place, squinting up at the sign that identified it as a place called Déjà Brew. But no, it wasn't until his nose crashed (in the heavenliest sense of the term possible) into a thick fog of espresso and spice, that he'd realized exactly what coffee shop his friends had picked out. But really, how was he supposed to know? The last time he'd set foot in the place, he'd stumbled in through some back alley way, his eyes trained on an older man that he'd still had major suspicions about, quite distracted by thoughts of—you guessed it, it's becoming a recurring theme here— his readily-approaching demise. And maybe there were also some repressed thoughts on sexuality (and the actually rather enjoyable view of walking behind Axel) mixed in there. _Anyway! _Not the point.

Roxas glanced around, his senses clouded and his feelings mixed. He was starting to wonder if he'd been conditioned to associate the smell of espresso and spice with _other_ sorts of steamy things. He repressed the thoughts as quickly as he could, forcing himself to think about grandmas, spiders, dead puppies—_anything_ to prevent his unfortunate impulsive male anatomy from making this situation more awkward than it already was. Besides, being at the place where Roxas and Axel had their first date while on a _fake_ first-date with someone else _really_ made him feel like he was digging up some bad voodoo—like _digging up ancient burial grounds_ bad. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of something he could do to right his karmic balance again. Uh—apologize to Sora? No. Tell his friends about Axel? _Hell_ no. _Oh shit, speaking of which_—Roxas grabbed at a nearby newspaper, crumpling it in tense hands in front of his face as he angled his head downward, casting the fringe of his hair over his eyes as much as possible. After an overly-dramatic screening of the room like something out of a spy movie he'd seen once, he could safely determine that he recognized none of the employees. No blond doe-eyed boys singing Shakira and destroying coffee machines like nobody's business. No highly attractive redheads with emerald eyes (not that multiple exist anyway, since it seems Roxas has some very selective tastes. Who knows? Maybe he's an Axelsexual). He let out a sigh of relief and thanked his lucky stars—which were hardly ever lucky, to be honest.

"No way! He didn't!"

Laughter erupted from somewhere in the room.

"You really convinced him to model a dress for you?"

"Yeah. He turned beet red. I drew it in one of my first sketchbooks, I think. You know, come to think of it, I might actually have that one in my bag—"

Roxas quickly zeroed in on and located the conversation, walking up as fast as he could. If what he thought he'd overheard had been any indication, he needed to get to that table and _fast _to save himself from impending embarrassment. He just needed to get there before his lucky stars turned into rusty tails-side pennies.

"Hey! Sorry I'm late, guys. Can I squeeze in here, Nam?"

Naminé looked up with surprise before immediately looking downward, a bashful smile on her face. She stopped rummaging in her giant bag—bulging with notebooks and sketchpads—pulling her hand back and patting the space beside her for Roxas to sit.

"Aw c'mon—Roxas, you have the worst timing," Hayner complained.

Roxas shrugged, actually quite pleased with what he saw as _excellent _timing, moving to sit in the empty space next to the tiny blonde girl. Olette shifted, giving Hayner a pointed look. He involuntarily flinched before opening his eyes and raising an eyebrow at Olette.

"What, no punching-of-the-Hayner this time? What gives?"

Olette gave an exaggerated eye roll, moving to flick Hayner between the eyes. She smiled. "There. Happy? Geez, and here I was trying to make a good impression on Roxas's girlfr—"

"And Hayner decides to go all S&amp;M on you? Yeah, welcome to our dysfunctional friend group, Naminé," Roxas quickly cut in, not wanting anyone to use the _G-word_ around Naminé, considering, as far as she knew, she _wasn't_ his girlfriend. Still, if he was going to have to act, he was going to make it count. He mustered up a suave wink and a laugh. "Don't worry, the S&amp;M is optional." _Wow, Axel was really rubbing off on him._

"Yeah, that's mainly an Olette and Hayner thing," Pence agreed.

Hayner gave Pence a look that could kill. "Oh yeah? It doesn't have to be. Er—at least, the smacking around part. C'mon, Pence, slapbox with me."

Olette quickly put her hands out between the two of them. "No! No. No flailing limbs when I'm sitting between you two. I'm not taking the collateral damage. Especially since both of you have the worst aim."

"Okay, but he has to pay for my coffee," Hayner said, leaning back and crossing his arms haughtily.

"Oh, so Roxas isn't the only one taking someone on a date here, then?"

Roxas's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He recovered as quickly as possible by letting out a laugh.

"I'll warn you, though, I'm not a cheap date." Hayner added, raising his head high and running a hand in his hair with exaggerated femininity. "And I _definitely_ don't kiss on the first date. Well—" He laughed. "At least—not when it's Pence. No offense, dude."

"None taken."

"It's okay. Roxas doesn't either—kiss on the first date, that is." Naminé added, smiling graciously.

"Wha—hey! Don't tell them that!" Roxas protested.

"What? It's true," Namine replied, smiling wryly.

"Yeah, but you don't have to s_ay _it, you know, _out loud_." He complained.

Roxas was scrambling to pick up after this blow to his manly, woman-loving façade. (That's what he was going for, right?) He smiled, looking at Naminé with as much softness as he could muster—even if that meant imagining a much taller, tattooed, male red-headed version of her. _Tomato, tomahto._ He reached over, keeping his mind off the petite little girl _actually_ sitting next to him, and took her hand in his. He made a blatant showing of placing their laced-together hands on the tabletop, in plain view of the others. It wasn't so bad, he guessed. Her hand felt cool to the touch and so abnormally _soft. _It was definitely not the searing touch that Axel gave. But it was alright.

She gave a small squeeze back, a smile appearing on her face that made the skin around her eyes crease slightly. It was kind of cute.

"Aw, look at them. Like an old married couple." Olette sighed dreamily, settling her face in her hand as she looked at them.

"Yeah, it's pretty disgusting," Hayner added. He looked at Olette, silently goading her with his eyes.

"I will not give you the satisfaction," Olette replied simply, putting her hand up in front of Hayner's face to silence him.

"Sweet."

"They _are_ sweet." Olette agreed.

"No, I mean, how you're not going to hit me anymore," Hayner replied.

"So, when's the wedding?" Pence interjected.

Hayner choked. "I thought we were over this! There is no Olayner. No Haynette. Nada. Gross."

Olette gave him another squinting look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

A voice called from down the aisle of tables. "Sounds like some people could use some caffeine. Give me two seconds, guys, I'll be right there."

Roxas's head jolted up. That voice sounded familiar. Like _ultra_-familiar. In a way that made his nerves simultaneously ache all over and set themselves on _fire_. He involuntarily squeezed Naminé's hand. Hard.

"Axel?" The name slid off his lips before he could stop it. Jesus. Maybe this morning was a _bad_ time to have that whole_ I'm-super-in-like-with-Axel_ revelation because now his face and name were intruding all over the place, slipping out from Roxas's thoughts without dilution. And now was quite possibly the _worst time_ for that to be happening. Enter again: body rebellion. Exit: lucky stars. Joy.

"That's my name. Got it memori—Roxas?" The name spoke as it came closer, until it was coming from right next to and above him and was audibly more incredulous.

Roxas sucked in a breath, ready to word-vomit out some excuse. Something. _Anything_. But the words weren't coming. His mouth made a motion to speak, but nothing came. The panic was rising in his chest as he continued to stare straight forward at the negative space between Olette and Pence, not quite brave enough to look up into Axel's eyes. After all the lies that had slid off his tongue with ease, his mouth was now suddenly dry, his throat devoid of all vibrations. All he could think of were all the eyes that were now on him. Olette, Hayner, and Pence looking between him and Axel. _Naminé_ looking between him and Axel. And finally, when he brought himself to look, Axel looking between him and Naminé. And then looking downwards. Onto the table. Narrowing. Roxas followed where Axel's eyes lay without thinking, landing on his hand laced with Naminé's.

"Your brother's really sick, huh? You had to stay home and take care of him?" Axel asked. Roxas noticed Axel's hands balling up, tensing, before he crossed his arms. "Sure looks like it." Axel's words were burning into him.

"I—" But again the words were lost on him. What could he possibly say? Nothing. There was nothing. Roxas started with nothing and would end with nothing. It was only fitting.

Axel shook his head, his eyes all fire and stone. And then he was turning, walking away, pulling off his apron and balling it up—his whole stance tense and animalistic and everything that chilled Roxas to the core.

"Axel, wait."

Roxas could feel the eyes of his friends burning into him. His legs felt suddenly leaden. His nerves were shot. He was forced, in his own fear, to sit paralyzed as the object of his affections—the only one to ever win his affections, the only one who didn't _need_ to win them because he had been _continually_ and _inevitably_ pulled in by the gravitational pull that was Axel, the only one he'd ever felt anything for—disappear out of the door.

And then there were distant voices coming his way, a barely perceptible squeezing of his hand, blurred faces with amorphous expressions, but all Roxas could feel was cold, cold, cold.


	14. Overzealous

**A/N: **Much love to all of my lovely readers and reviewers, you are my lifeblood. Sorry for all my hiatuses.

* * *

"Roxas! Are you okay?"

"Here, let me feel his forehead."

"Who even was that guy? Oh my god—do you think Roxas is part of the Mafia?"

"Hayner, you're an idiot."

"Roxas, hey, you in there?"

Roxas cracked his eyes open, his head swimming. Naminé removed her hand from his forehead and smiled softly. For a moment, his mind was blank. His eyes swept over the concerned faces, their eyes all trained on him with varying looks of confusion. The rest of his senses slammed back into his body like a semi-truck, electrical impulses rushing all at once. He rechecked the faces and noticed a distinct lack of familiar green eyes and teardrop tattoos. The events from the last five minutes were suddenly washing back over him, the moments that gutted him surging through him, repeating over and over, filling his lungs and making it hard to breathe. He put a hand to his head, squeezing his temples. There was an inexplicable dread spreading through his body and he couldn't stop himself from launching up out of the booth.

"Oh fuck. I have to go. I—dammit. Sorry," he sputtered, his whole demeanor brimming with agitation. He was vaguely aware of his friends calling after him, but his frenzied behavior had gone on autopilot. He ran over to the counter, his momentum causing him to nearly topple over it. He hissed slightly, frowning down at the counter as if _it _had somehow jumped out in front of _him_, before pausing to catch his breath. An employee behind the counter looked up, quirking her eyebrow.

"I—uh. Is Axel back there? Can I go see him? It's really imp—"

"Tough luck. Fire crotch balled up his apron and threw it back here." She motioned to it with her foot for emphasis, nudging it as it lay crumpled on the floor. "So," she paused, the gum in her mouth audibly popping, "methinks he's not coming back to finish the rest of Demyx's shift, which he was _supposed _to be covering." She shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her head before it immediately sprung back into place. "Fucking figures."

Roxas's attention momentarily caught on her twin antennae-like strands of hair, spiting gravity as they hung in the hair. Jesus, did everyone working here have some kind of crackpot experimental hair stylist? He shook his head, expelling the thoughts and focusing back on her face. "Do you know where he went?"

She shrugged again, picking up a magazine and flipping through a couple pages with undisguised boredom. "Not my problem."

Roxas groaned, turning towards the door. He was promptly stopped by a gruff hand on his shoulder. The air stilled in his chest. He turned slowly, something akin to hope stirring in his chest. He'd expected to see an angry Axel, looking to sit Roxas down and make him explain shit. He owed Axel that much. Instead—he was met with brown eyes under knitted brows. The air left his lungs like a deflating balloon. Was he really that disappointed to _not _have to confront his angry boyfriend?

Wait—was Axel his boyfriend?

Well, probably not anymore. Good job, Roxas. _You screwed up the one decent relationship that you have _ever_ had._ Gold star.

"Roxas—helloo? What is going on with you? You just nearly passed out and now you're running around the coffee shop like a maniac. Are you okay?" Hayner asked.

Roxas couldn't quite look at him, his eyes beginning to unfocus as he stared at the back wall. His eyes flitted over to their table and caught Olette's eyes. She returned his gaze with a somehow more knowing one. It was almost maternal, as if she was asking w_hat do you need? _Roxas returned it with a strained gaze—as if to say _if you've ever _ever_ cared about me, you would please help me out right now._ _Please. _She reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone.

"Oh fudge. Hayner! I got a text like twenty minutes ago and didn't realize—my mom accidentally forgot to turn the oven off _again_ before she drove downtown. Here, Naminé, we'll stop off at my place to make sure it's not in flames and then I can take you home. Or you can hang out there with us. Hayner, _come on._ Let's go." Olette called across the room.

He looked at Roxas quizzically again before quickly turning to go back to their table.

Roxas mouthed a quick _thank you_ to Olette before starting into a jog towards the parking lot. He realized how glad he was that he'd driven himself here. It would've been a real fucking pain to trudge back to his friends, somehow bat away their probing questions, and grovel for a ride. But, really, this was going to be painful no matter what. He just hoped it would be over soon.

* * *

Roxas stood in front of the small one-story house, eyeing it with much less disdain than before. He chewed at his lip, shifting about in his feet as he warily stared at the wooden door in front of him. He peeked down at the welcome mat beneath his feet. Yeah, _welcome_, that's how he felt. He reached up, knocking once, twice, three times. He turned and looked at his car, parked in the street. A semblance of a grin tugged at his lips, his imagination filling the empty window spaces with his and Axel's silhouettes. He tugged idly at his hair, hoping to get back to that soon.

He was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of the door opening.

"Hey."

For the second time, Roxas was disappointed by the sight of a blond boy staring back at him. He sighed, trying to put on a polite smile. "Demyx, right? Hi."

Demyx leaned against the doorframe, slurping on a purple popsicle. He started to speak but stopped when he had to catch a piece of the popsicle as it nearly fell to the floor.

"Yup! And you're Roxas." He moved to try to shake Roxas's hand but then looked down at the melting purple mess on his hands. He laughed. "Sorry. Jeez, what a greeting. I should—get a sink. You can come in." He turned around, leaving the door open as he wandered back into the house.

"Zex, Roxas is here!" Demyx called as he toddled off.

Roxas followed slowly, shutting the door behind him. He eyed a couch that was sitting by its lonesome in front of a television set. He walked over, sitting down slowly as he balked at the unfamiliar house, with its pale blue walls and dark wooden floors. Not exactly the kind of space he imagined Axel would live in. As he sat, he noticed how the couch gave way slightly—a familiar sign of a couch put to actual use. He closed his eyes, leaning back. That familiar scent crashed over him all at once—spice and smoke. He inhaled as much of it as possible, feeling a little masochistic as he felt something in his chest squeeze painfully.

"Oh good, you're making yourself at home," Demyx spoke, vaulting haphazardly over the back of the couch and landing next to Roxas. "So—let me guess. Looking for Axel?"

"Yeah." He sighed, expecting the answer before the words were even out of his mouth. "Is he here?"

Demyx shook his head. His mouth turned down slightly as he continued to stare at Roxas.

Roxas stared down at his hands quietly, not saying anything. It was getting harder and harder to be hopeful about this situation. The way that Axel had stormed out—the look in Axel's eyes right before he'd turned away. Cold, hard. Unforgiving. He wasn't sure how much he could take of that moment replaying in his mind.

Demyx tilted his head. "You know…Axel said you were quiet, but he didn't say you were _this _quiet."

"Sorry," Roxas said, shaking himself from his depressing thoughts. "I just—Axel and I sort of…had a fight. Or we're going to—or something. I don't know." Roxas dragged his hands across his face in exasperation. "I'm an idiot."

"Shit. That sucks. Man, Axel seemed great earlier this morning, he even offered to cover my shift at work—ah damn. I probably have to go in now, don't I?" Demyx said, more to himself than to Roxas.

Roxas stared at him.

"Sorry. Doesn't matter." He said, waving his hand. "I'm sure everything will work out with you two. I mean, what, you didn't cheat on him or anything did you?" He half-joked, quickly sobering when he caught the wide-eyed look Roxas gave him in response.

"No—no. Or—well. Not exactly." He let out another exasperated sigh, fisting his hands in his hair. Axel probably did think Roxas was cheating on him—with a pretty little blue-eyed, blonde-haired girl, at that. And even if he didn't cheat, Roxas was a fake and a liar. He was dirt.

"Aw, Roxas," he spoke, placing a friendly hand on Roxas's shoulder and shaking him lightly. Roxas got the feeling that Demyx wasn't exactly the poster child for personal space, but for some reason he didn't seem to mind. It brought some comfort to his frazzled mind.

"Don't worry, you guys will figure it out. Axel's crazy about you—trust me."

"Yeah?"

The thing in his chest began to beat a little overzealously.

"Yeah. I remember how nervous he was before your guys's first date—and Axel's _not_ a guy who usually gets nervous about stuff. He practically begged me to trade shifts around to make sure I was working that day. Like Axel even needs a wingman," he rolled his eyes, laughing.

_Great. Now I feel like even more of an ass. Axel's crazy about me and I fuck it up. I _really_ need to talk to him._

Roxas pulled out his phone, thumbing out a text, wondering why he hadn't thought to text Axel before. He wasn't thinking straight. Wow—that's what got him into this mess in the first place—trying to think straight. And act straight. What a joke.

He stared at the text he'd typed out.

_"Axel, if you get this, can you call me? I promise, I can explain everything. We can go somewhere to talk. Please."_

He grimaced at how desperate—and guilty—he sounded. But he _was_ desperate. And guilty.

So he clicked send.

Zexion had somehow appeared silently a couple feet away to the left of them. His voice caused Roxas to jump in his seat and nearly drop his phone.

"He took all of his stuff, Demyx."

"What?"

"His toothbrush, that old red blanket, the extra pack of cigarettes he'd bought that was sitting in the kitchen—"

"Damn," Demyx replied, standing up. "Were you here when he did all of that?"

Zexion shrugged. "I was reading in the bedroom. Yeah, I heard him rummaging around—but, I mean, he's always rummaging around. That's not exactly abnormal behavior for him."

Demyx sighed. "Roxas—you know Axel kinda stays wherever, right? He might've just decided to crash somewhere else tonight, to clear his head, y'know?" He reached over again, patting Roxas's knee in an attempt at reassurance.

Roxas looked up in Zexion's direction but he managed to avoid Roxas's eyes. Not exactly a great confirmation.

"You guys think he left, don't you?" Roxas blurted out. "...Like, for real. Out of town. Gone?" Roxas asked, his eyes narrowing and his voice rising in force.

Roxas stood up, suddenly livid. Livid at the idea that Axel would leave him behind. Livid that they would think that. "You think that I pissed him off so bad he had to get the hell out of dodge? Is that it? Listen—I didn't—I mean, I wouldn't—you don't know what fucking happened, okay?"

"Roxas—look, we don't know where Axel is. We'll try to call him, get ahold of him somehow. You should go home and get some rest. You're upset and you need time to think. And so does Axel, probably." He stood up, motioning for Roxas to follow him to the door.

He reached his arms over, hugging Roxas firmly. "Axel cares, Roxas. And I know you care. Don't beat yourself up too much. I'm rooting for you guys." He lowered his voice to a whisper, "I think Zex secretly is too, he's just honestly a teensy bit happy for Axel to be _out _of our house. Axel and privacy don't really mix."

Roxas nodded numbly. He just yelled at someone who was practically a stranger. He was beating himself up _and_ the people around him.

Roxas waved weakly. He wandered slowly back to his car, the view of the empty car windows now taunting him. He got in, buckling his seatbelt, trying to ignore the distinct feeling of his breaths becoming ragged, trying to ignore the weight of everything threatening to swallow him.

As he rested his forehead against the steering wheel, a deep keening breath turned into a leaden sigh. "Axel, where are you?"


	15. Don't Ruin It

For the second time this week—like a cruel case of déjà vu—Roxas sat in front of an intersection with his head slumped against the steering wheel. His head was swarming, stinging, like it was a hornets' nest mistaken for a piñata. For the second time this week—as he probably should've expected from the first experience—Roxas was startled from his headrest of choice by a jarring car horn.

Ejected from the asphyxia of his thoughts, he nodded numbly, taking one last sidelong glance at the empty grassy area underneath the stop sign. To what end? Not one. Simply to torture himself with the fact that Axel was not sprawled underneath it, tattered bag in tow, waiting for him to show up and fix everything. The longer he held the glance, the more the empty space seemed to mock him for even considering it. Axel didn't want to see him. Axel wanted so _badly_ not to see him that he threw his things together and left. And yet Roxas had somehow entertained the hope that maybe, just maybe, those stupid, ridiculous, abnormally red spikes would be waiting for him there.

The jarring honk returned, followed by a rather angry revving of an engine. Roxas snapped out of his stupor, hitting the accelerator and shaking his head.

He was the stupid, ridiculous one.

* * *

Somehow Roxas made it home, despite the little voice in his head pointing fingers at him, forcing him to relive the moment over and over, just to look at the momentary hurt in Axel's eyes, right before they turned cold.

He trudged through the doorway, his every step taking longer than he wanted, but he didn't exactly have the energy to go skipping to his room. Already beginning to mentally check out, he could almost tangibly feel the embrace of his bed. The thought gave him some bizarre sense of satisfaction. It was the only surefire way to wind his thoughts down—to turn them off completely.

He wandered up the stairs and was about to momentarily up his pace as he passed by his brother's open door, when he noticed an odd sound. He listened more closely, the sound growing louder as he edged towards Sora's door. It was…sniffling? Wait, was Sora _actually_ sick? What—was he psychic too? He makes an excuse that Sora's sick and suddenly he is. Well, geez, maybe he should go make an excuse about making up with Ax—_oh just stop it._ He rolled his eyes at himself, his own optimism making him sick. It was just him deluding himself. Again. All he got from that was getting honked at and hope-sick.

Then he noticed something else—mumbling.

"—n't understand…—'m sorry."

He peered in, finding a cross-legged Sora sniffing and blubbering on his bed, hunched over and staring dejectedly at something in his hands.

Roxas suddenly felt very uncomfortable and incredibly guilty—like he was seeing something he wasn't supposed to see. He wanted to look away, feeling awkward for gawking at his brother as he fell apart. But, weirdly, he couldn't look away. It was…alien. He'd never seen his brother sob like this before, had never seen him unravel or crumple, had hardly ever seen him falter. It should've felt good—to see his brother finally act human. Instead, it felt like someone had gutted a hole in the pit of his stomach.

Roxas looked at him—with his hands shaking, his shoulders warped, his face tear-streaked. Even the spikes of his hair looked deflated. It was like watching someone take the batteries out of your favorite childhood toy. One minute it was scurrying across the floor a thousand miles a minute, chirping and singing and humming—and the next minute it was silent and unmoving in their hands.

It was wrong.

He couldn't stop his feet from crossing the invisible barrier separating him from Sora's room. Couldn't stop himself from sitting on the edge of the bed next to Sora and forcing himself to look at the semblance of his brother. Couldn't stop his arms from encapsulating his brother and holding him quietly for a moment.

"Roxas? Is—is something wrong? D-do you need anything?" Sora quickly sputtered, pulling back and holding Roxas's shoulders, his eyes frantically searching as if he expected Roxas to have some dire injury that might cause him to bleed out right there in front of him.

The corners of Roxas's mouth upturned slightly at the same time that his heart gave a painful squeeze. Here he was, an emotional wreck, and his first thought was to ask if Roxas was okay. Granted, Roxas hadn't entered the interior of Sora's room or given his brother a hug in—Jesus, a long time—but, still, it was just so characteristically _Sora_.

Roxas let out a shaky laugh. "I should be asking _you_ that."

Sora mimicked the smile, letting out a laugh that seemed to morph into a sigh of relief and hiccup hybrid. The strange noise seemed to startle him, causing him to laugh and make the noise again.

The two of them shared a look and then simultaneously fell into hysterics.

Moments later Roxas seem to sober, looking at Sora with some scrutiny. His face was blotchy but the look in his eyes was buoyant and bright again. It brought a surprising calm upon Roxas. For once, Roxas was putting the smile back on his brother's face, rather than trying to wipe it off. If he was really honest with himself, Sora was never the problem…just a convenient substitute target.

"No—seriously, are you sure you're okay?" Roxas repeated, wondering if this moment of brotherly love could somehow repair the years' worth of angsty bullshit that he had pulled. Probably not, but it was a start in the right direction. Lord knows that he needed _someone_ on his side in this shitstorm he'd created for himself.

"I'm actually feeling a lot better. Thanks for your twintuition."

Roxas let that statement hang in the air, narrowing his eyes as he processed it. "…twintuition? You do realize that you're _older_ than me, right?"

"Yeah…but there's not really a good word for that."

"Uh. Bro-wareness? Sib sense?"

"Shhhh. Don't ruin it."

"Are you even going to tell me why you were upset in the first place? I honestly was mentally preparing myself to get ready for a dramatic monologue, so—"

Sora sat up a little straighter and Roxas was almost ready to put his foot in his mouth.

"I've got a better idea. How about _you_ tell _me _about this certain redhead you were—how did you put it? 'Swapping spit with'? I knew it was something eloquent like that," Sora quipped, punctuating liberally with air quotes and finger points before setting his head on his hand and looking at Roxas expectantly.

Roxas looked at him, blinking a few times. Oh. Right. _Axel_. Yep. Definitely foot in mouth. Fighting the feeling of the air being knocked out of him, he tried to come up with some sort of witty quip or excuse or just _something—_

And then the doorbell rang.

"Saved by the bell," Sora half-laughed. He tugged the collar of his shirt upward slightly to wipe at his eyes and cheeks before hopping up with renewed energy. Damn, he really bounced back fast.

"I'll go get it. But we're talking about this later," Sora said, pointing between him and Roxas with a partly joking, partly brother-turned-parent voice.

"Yeah, yeah," Roxas said. As Sora left, the silence left his mind to wander. Abruptly, he perked up. Ever the _infuriating _optimist—except for, y'know, when he was exactly the opposite— his mind had suddenly conjured the image of Axel standing at the doorstep. He was about to lunge off the bed and run down the stairs when he noticed a crumpled piece of paper lying on the side of the bed. He leaned over, plucking it up and smoothing it out in his hands. Was this what Sora had been hunched over before he'd walked in?

He turned it over and could've sworn he physically felt the guilt meter scale inside of him break. It was an old picture of Sora and him. He smiled down at it wistfully. They'd been having a play sword fight with sticks, when Roxas had accidentally gotten hit in the face. The aftermath was this picture of him being nearly smothered by the zeal of Sora's apology hug. You couldn't even tell it was after a play battle, aside from the small scrape on Roxas's forehead. Both of their faces were just scrunched up in laughter.

Dammit. He really did need to tell Sora about the 'certain redhead'. Even if it was painful. Because that's what Roxas owed him, to tell him about his fucked up life and let Sora smother him in the zeal of a consoling hug. It wasn't pity or sympathy. It was just brotherly. And Roxas was an idiot.

And maybe, just maybe, if he was behind that door, Roxas wouldn't have to tell him about Axel, the one that got away, or Axel, the old flame. Maybe he could tell him about Axel, his …_boyfriend?_

_God, did he really just think that? When did his thoughts start resembling the cliffhanger narration for a soap opera?_

_Lord._


	16. Crawling

**A/N: **Thank you for your undying patience. I thought I knew where this story was going until I realized that I didn't. And then I had waaay too many ideas. But I think I'm back on track. Thanks for sticking with me. Also, yes, I decided to retroactively put actual chapter names on all the chapters. It feels more personable that way.

* * *

Roxas trailed behind slowly, trying to consolidate his thoughts together into something that resembled logic. He'd texted Axel that he could explain everything. But really? What was his explanation then? _She was my _fake_ girlfriend, not my _real _girlfriend. Nothing to worry about!_ Yeah. Perfect. Real believable.

And let's just say— by some sort of miracle bestowed on a very undeserving Roxas— that Axel does believe him. Then what? _Why did you have a fake girlfriend, Roxas_? _Ohhh I don't know, not because I was ashamed of you or of homosexuality or anything like that. Never. _Oh he was so fucked. He _had_ an explanation. He just didn't have an explanation for the explanation. At least, not one that wouldn't make him sound like a cowardly prick.

He could feel dread churning in his chest. He couldn't decide whether he even wanted Axel to be behind that door or not. It would mean that at least Axel wanted to _see_ him. And that Axel was here. And safe. And not chain smoking away his lungs into something resembling dried jerky or hitchhiking in some godforsaken place where he could get killed or—damn it. He could feel his heartbeat quickening, fighting against the suffocating sluggish churning in his chest. He wanted Axel to be there.

And now he couldn't quite smother the hope brimming somewhere inside of him. It's like the cockroach of emotions. You feed it a single crumb—one tiny hopeful thought—and it comes skittering out and suddenly there's a whole infestation of little seedy hope babies crawling all over you. _Maybe you and Axel can get back together! _Shut up. _Your friends will take you back and forgive you! _Shut up. _Everything will be okay! _**SHUT UP**.

He looked up, realizing Sora was already unlocking the door, and here he'd been, having a pretend conversation with imaginary cockroaches that were crawling over his body and whispering nice things to him. So. Y'know. At least he still had his sanity.

Yeah, he was perfectly lucid. _Definitely_ mentally capable of having one of the most important conversations of his life. What could possibly go wrong?

"Sora!"  
"Yo." Two voices said simultaneously.

_That_. That could go wrong.

* * *

"Gosh, Roxas, we haven't seen you in a hot minute," Kairi said, tucking a stray strand of red hair behind her ear.

Roxas stared at the red lock of hair numbly then suddenly smacked his own arm.

"Euh." Kairi responded, caught off guard by the arbitrary self-inflicted violence. "You okay?"

"Sorry. Uh. There was a—" _Not a cockroach. _"Mosquito." Good_. _Don't let them know about the crazy._ You're not crazy. We're not cra— "_Shut up!"

Kairi and Riku exchanged a look.

Did he say that out loud? Well. At least his new psychosis was good at keeping things interesting.

Kairi shifted her weight forward in her seat, trying to catch Sora's eyes—as if to ask _is this the new normal_? Or _how do we act around your basket case brother_? Roxas looked amusedly between the two of them.

"He was probably talking to you, Kai. Who the hell says 'in a hot minute'?" Riku suggested.

Well. It was a good guess. And an even better save. He mentally thanked Riku.

"_I do_! And I'll have a bone to pick with you in a hot second if you poke fun at my speech again."

"_Bone to pick_? _Hot second_? …_Poke fun_? What are you?"

"Sora? You won't stand for this, will you? It's bullying!" She exclaimed dramatically, holding a hand to her forehead a feigned damsel-in-distress pose.

"Actually, I'm pretty content with sitting," Sora said, crossing his arms behind his head and smiling lopsidedly at his bickering friends from across the room.

"Lame," Kairi groaned.

"Hey, that's current. Welcome back to the present," Riku quipped.

Kairi reared up on her feet and pounced at Riku, holding him captive in a headlock and giving him a noogie.

"Kairi! Cut it out! The hair! Watch the hair. Kairi!"

She rocked back on her heels, cocking her head. "Sorry, I just wanted to test out my being in the present—you know, where women can be seen _and _heard. And where we can give out butt whoopings just like guys can. Well, when it's deserved, of course," she responded, batting her eyelashes and smiling sweetly. Say what you want about Kairi, she could lay on the sass a mile thick.

Riku looked between Roxas and Sora. "Do you see what I have to deal with?"

"Okay, Riku's complaining is not the point. He's just sore about getting lip from a girl. We're here to see you guys! Sora, Roxas. Roxas, Sora. Our favorite brother duo!" Kairi chirped.

"_Sore about getting lip from a girl_. Kairi, what planet are you from?" Riku asked incredulously.

"Riku, I already gave you a knuckle sandwich. Do you _really _want seconds?"

"A _knuckle sandwich_. My god."

"Alright, I'm breaking this one up," Sora interjected quickly. He got up from his armchair and plopped himself between his two best friends. "It's only entertaining for so long."

Kairi and Riku sighed, each of their heads lolling slightly onto Sora's two shoulders. The spitting image of three peas in a pod.

"Cute," Roxas said, his head propped on his hand after being the spectator to their the-three-best-of-friends dynamic. Not that he really minded—it was a nice distraction from the strange things brewing in his head as of late. And crawling on his arms. But that's beside the point.

Kairi twirled a piece of hair absent-mindedly, her mouth working ever so slightly as she stared at Roxas. "So. Roxas. There's something different about you."

The crazy? _Wow, Kairi, how politically incorrect of you._

"I mean, obviously you're getting older. But there's something else. I can't quite put my finger on it," Kairi said, cocking her head and eyeing him with scrutiny.

Roxas thought for a second. Well. He guessed now was as good of a time as any.

"That I'm gay?"

Riku sputtered into a laugh. He stopped after a moment, looking around at Sora and Kairi with—what was that? Roxas couldn't quite place the look he was giving them.

Kairi cracked a smile despite herself and then elbowed Sora. They all broke into a laugh.

"Sorry, sorry—it's not funny. It's really not. It's just—" Kairi giggled again, then immediately clapped her hands over her mouth, looking apologetic.

Roxas stared at all of them individually. He replayed the moment in his mind. He did say 'I'm gay' right? And not _mime Broadway_ or _mmm lime sorbet_ or something that could possibly be construed as funny?

"Kairi, you owe me five bucks," Riku said as he caught his breath, crossing his arms behind his head.

"Drat," Kairi sighed, patting around in her pockets. "I really thought it would take until college."

"She says drat. Come on, Kairi. Drat? You know, I really think she's an extra-terrestrial. Come to think of it, I don't know anyone with natural red hair like that either. It's pretty suspect," Riku responded, reaching over and plucking at a stray red plume of hair.

"Axel has red hair like that," Roxas remarked without thinking. "Hey wait a second—are you saying you guys placed a _bet _on if I would turn out gay_?_" Roxas asked incredulously. "What the hell?"

"Not if. _When_," Riku said, poking the air with his finger definitively. He looked over at Kairi with side eyes and rubbed his fingers together in a mocking 'money' motion. He smiled. "I put my money on high school."

"Oh that makes it better," Roxas replied, rolling his eyes. For some reason, he wasn't even mad.

"Hey wait a second, who's Axel?" Kairi piped up, stressing his name with extra-long vowels for romantic emphasis. "He sounds cute."

"Axel—is _that_ the redhead you were 'swapping spit' with?" Sora said, leaning forward, his parental voice returning.

"He did say that this so called 'Axel' had red hair like Kairi's. _Very_ suspect."

"Hey, hey. May I remind you that your first response to my coming out was that you all _laughed _at me_?" _Roxas laughed. "And not just a little. Like, a lot. _Simultaneously_. I mean, my own brother." He crossed his arms.

"Yeah, you really look hurt," Riku said sarcastically. He began smoothing his silvery locks down, looking slightly paranoid that Kairi's attack had left it sticking up in random places.

Roxas sighed. "More than you know, actually." He scratched the back of his head with embarrassment at the sudden change in conversational tone. He stared at a corner of the wall soberly, trying not to look at Kairi's red, red hair.

"Riku," Kairi whined. "You broke him."

"No, sorry." Roxas forced himself to look back at them. "I—ah— Axel isn't in the picture anymore. I don't even know what or _whose_ picture he is in, for that matter. He kinda just disappeared. You know, like they say about the conductor of the so-called ghost train." He wrinkled his forehead as the words came out of his mouth.

Ghost Train. _Ghost Train._

"Oh shit. I think I know where Axel is."


	17. Peanut Butter

Roxas wasn't sure why he had told them that he was gay. He guessed that such a frazzled state of mind led to lowered cerebral defenses—not that he really had any to begin with. Besides, he'd felt like he'd owed Sora something. He sighed.

Somewhere deep down in the recesses of his mind, he knew that he didn't _want _to be gay. But he didn't really have much of a say, did he? That's what had been going on this whole time. His brain, his heart, his stomach. They all pointed toward Axel, Axel, Axel. It almost made him feel ill how easy it was—for Roxas to fall. Even when he dug in his heels to anchor himself to something, _anything. _He continued to be dragged further and further.

Why _didn't_ he want to be gay?He thought about it as he pulled open a package of peanut butter crackers. Something was gnawing at his stomach as he chewed on the idea. He felt—_lightheaded_? It was probably nothing so he tried to shake it off, receding back into his thoughts. _There was nothing wrong with being gay. He knew that. _

Hissing as a second wave of dizziness overcame him, he braced himself against the table. He closed his eyes and attempted to breathe slowly. He forced himself to eat a peanut butter cracker, then a second. His blood sugar was probably just low. It's not like he wasn't used to this. He'd been forgetting to eat a lot the past few days.

He winced, pressing his palms resolutely into the table to anchor himself as his stomach lurched. He slid down the chair onto the floor, sprawling himself out onto the cold kitchen tile. He closed his eyes, trying to quell the turbulence overcoming his body. His face felt hot. With some effort, he managed to push his legs up onto the kitchen chair he'd just evacuated in order to keep his legs elevated above his heart—he had a vague understanding of the medical concept. He focused on breathing deeply and evenly. He drifted off.

_Roxas skipped into the house._

_"Someone's looking chipper today. Did you have a good day at school?"_

_Roxas nodded enthusiastically. His mom raised her eyebrows with curiosity. She crouched down with a grin to ruffle Roxas's hair. He giggled in response. "Oh really? Why don't you go set your backpack down and then you can tell me all about it?" _

_Roxas all but pitched his backpack down, nearly bubbling over with excitement. "Someone at school left me a note in my cubby!"_

_Roxas's mom, still listening, walked to the pantry to grab some crackers and a jar of peanut butter. "Oh? And who was that?" She pulled two spoons off the drying rack and Roxas darted over, using all of his limbs to scale the kitchen chair. He plucked his spoon out of her hands with greedy fingers._

_Roxas shrugged his shoulders at her in response. He bit into his cracker—topped with a disproportionately large glob of peanut butter._

_"Hmmm," she said. "Do you still have the note?"_

_Roxas nodded vigorously. "In my backpack. I'm gonna keep it forever."_

_His mom got up, walking over to the backpack Roxas had left strewn across the floor. Roxas heard the sound of his backpack being unzipped. He smiled giddily again at the thought of the note, placing the peanut butter filled spoon backwards against his tongue._

_"Looks like someone has an admirer," his mom said, a smile on her lips as she pulled the envelope open. She revealed a heart-covered note, with two stick figures holding hands in the center. She admired it with another soft smile before handing it to Roxas. He gladly grabbed it, running his hands across the pink and red crayon lines with awe._

_"Are you sure you don't know which girl gave you this? Maybe I ought to help you make a thank-you card."_

_Roxas broke into giggles._

_"What's so funny? Are you keeping a secret from me?" She said, placing her hands on her hips in a playfully stern stance._

_"Maybe," Roxas said._

_"Don't make me have to tickle the truth out of you," his mom said._

_Roxas squealed, running away in a fit of giggles, but his mom quickly caught up with him in the living room. She picked him up, tickling his foot. He laughed. "Moooomm. That tickles! Okay, okay!"_

_"Alright, silly boy. Spill the beans," she said, setting him down right-side-up onto the couch._

_He nodded, catching his breath._

_"Well? What's her name, huh?"_

_Roxas burst into fits again. "You're silly, mommy. A boy left it for me." It was pretty obvious to Roxas that those were two boy stick figures. Girls were drawn with long hair and triangle skirts—like on the bathroom signs._

_Roxas's mom blinked at him. She stood slowly, her back going uncharacteristically straight. "I see. Listen sweetie, I'm gonna take your note for a while, okay?"_

"_No!" Roxas wailed. "That's mine, momma! Don't!" __He could hear the wretched ripping sound. It echoed the rift forming deep in his chest. "__I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"_

"_Roxas—I want you to go up to your room and wait 'til your father gets home." She punctuated her sentence with the simple click of the trash can foot pedal._

Roxas awoke with a start, retching and emptying his insides. He'd forgotten how much he hated peanut butter.

* * *

The day he'd met Tidus was one of his worst days. It was probably one of his worst because he'd had it set in his mind that it was going to be one of his best.

He'd awoken early in the morning—partially because he wanted to dedicate the whole day to searching for Axel, but mostly because he couldn't sleep.

He bought an all-day train pass and used it to sit on the train for several cycles—back and forth, stop to stop. He'd started with his back straight, his heart beating with a mixture of vigor and agitation. His leg bounced in fits at certain intervals. His eyes scanned the faces around him continually. At each stop, he turned and peeked out the window with fastidious focus for firetruck red hair or shamrock green eyes.

Eventually his resolve began to falter.

His back sagged. His veins congealed. He pulled fitfully at the loose threads poking out from his jeans.

When the sun began to set, Roxas decided to exit the train. He made his way to the clock tower. He peered up with squinting eyes, half-expecting to see two boot-clad feet dangling from the top. But there weren't.

Still, he kept going.

He dragged his feet up the flights upon flights of stairs. It was odd to scale them this way—they never seemed so interminable when he was chasing Axel up them, yelling something about the ethics of such an unfair race—_"You can't expect my stubby legs to keep up with your spindly chicken legs!"_

Axel would launch back a retort._ "Maybe if you didn't yell so much, you'd have the energy to keep up!"_ At this, Roxas would run faster, his hand held under his sea salt ice cream, catching the drips and globs flying off—if only to smother some onto Axel's smug face and into his red, red hair when he reached the top.

"_What? I wanted to see if it would make purple."_

Roxas reached the top. It was quiet. He took a step forward. Two steps. Three.

He sat on the edge, alone.

He peered over the edge, his feet dangling with nothing to catch them. Even now, he couldn't deny that he considered it—pushing himself a few wee inches forward and letting gravity take care of the rest. But some stupid little voice inside him told him that maybe—just maybe—he'd missed Axel by a few minutes. Maybe he'd find him back on the train. He had to.

He'd collapsed into the train seat, his head falling into his hands. He didn't possess the energy to hope anymore. He felt empty.

He had no idea how long he'd sat there. A long time.

"Hey, is this seat taken?"

Roxas stayed silent.

They decided to sit next to Roxas anyway—he felt the added weight and the brush of an elbow against his. Even though he still had his head in his hands, he was fairly certain there were plenty of empty seats elsewhere. He sighed audibly. _Take the hint_, he thought.

"You alright?"

_No._ _No, I'm not. Please leave me alone._

"Are you lost? Do you live around here? I'd be happy to help."

_Go. Away. _He was so angry and frustrated that tears began flowing down his face. He kept his face hidden in his hands but his nose began to run and his sniffling gave him away.

"…hey. It's okay. It's alright." A hand moved to Roxas's shoulder, giving it a gentle pat. "I'll sit here with you."

At some point, Roxas pulled himself together enough to look up. His gaze was met with watchful blue eyes and a small, reassuring smile. And that was that.

* * *

It's not like Tidus didn't know about Axel. He'd told Tidus virtually everything before they ever started dating. In fact, Tidus helped him pull the scattered pieces of his life back together. He got Roxas to pull his head out of his ass and apologize to his friends. Yeah, he still needed to apologize to Naminé, but that was difficult for Roxas and Tidus cut him some slack on that.

And things were easy.

At least, they were easy for Tidus. He was always calm. Reassuring. Understanding. About _everything._

And Roxas felt good about him.

He did.

But…

"But what? _What are you so afraid of?"_

He didn't know. Things should feel better. He knew what to expect with Tidus. He was accepted with Tidus. Tidus was everything he could think to ask for. Patience incarnate.

He just wished his heart would agree.

"You're right, Tidus. I'm…I'm done being afraid. I'm in this. I am."

"Cherish me, Roxas. And I'll cherish you. Okay? We've gotta stick together."

_Yeah. We were better together._


	18. Incorporeal

The grass crunched under the weight of his footsteps. Roxas rubbed nervously at the inside of his elbow in slow, rhythmic motions. He shouldn't have been nervous—it's not like she was going to stare at him with cold, calculating eyes or drum her fingers impatiently at him. She would have all the patience in the world, he knew that.

_Sigh. Why was he even here?_

Still, his footfalls formed a steady staccato beat as he continued trekking towards his destination. He eyed the grounds stoically, his eyes merely gliding over the landscape—searching. It was empty but the air felt full. Thick.

Her place came up faster than he thought it would. He hadn't spent enough time thinking about what he was going to say. A long silence fell._ Inhale. Exhale._

"I'm sorry," he breathed finally.

He waited a while, looking every which way but forward. More silence. He continued, "I-I was wrong for what I did. I just"—he searched for the words. "I hope you can forgive me. I understand if you don't." His mouth felt dry. He searched once again for words that felt hopelessly out of reach.

"I never meant for anyone to get hurt." He winced at how—he didn't know—_small_ he sounded? "I can't take back the lies I told. And I know my actions didn't communicate it but," his voice broke at the same time that his stoicism did. His eyes watered involuntarily.

A pause.

His words came out as a croaked whisper. "I loved your son."

An hour had passed. Roxas ran a focused hand gently along the gravestone, tracing the words.

A-e-r-i-t-h. Aerith.

L-e-o-n-e. Leone.

J-a-n-u-a-r-y. January.

3-r-d. 3rd.

1-9-6— _"Hey."_

Roxas jumped, his finger displacing from the letters he had been tracing. _That voice. It wasn't_—no—_it_ _couldn't be._ He kept his eyes trained on his hand even as it began to shake. He didn't know if he could manage to look. He felt such an awful mixture of dread and hope. It felt like someone had wrenched his mouth open and filled his insides with cement.

He dared to look. _One look._

There he was, red pieces of hair standing out like palm fronds. His gangly legs dangled from the tree he was sitting in.

He stared. It was like he was incorporeal. The sunlight shone behind him. _No, he wasn't real._ Roxas shook his head solemnly. It was clear to him that he'd fallen asleep while talking to Axel's mom—or _at_ Axel's mom—or maybe just to himself, if he was honest. This was just some stupid dream waiting to pull him back into the depths of his depressing old yearning.

"I didn't cheat on you, you know," Roxas blurted. At first, he felt horrified at himself. For months he had turned this moment over and over in his head. He had considered every contingency—right down to Axel throwing a punch at him. He had planned carefully, _excruciatingly_. At times it was the only thing keeping him sane. He was supposed to start with an apology, not some juvenile, backhanded denial. He'd never felt such a deep repugnance for himself.

He guessed it didn't matter. If it was just a dream, he was going to wake up feeling hollow and cheated just the same. If he was going to get anything out of this, he ought to scale the tree and steal a kiss from Axel one more time. One _last_ time, really.

Roxas smiled bitterly at that thought despite himself. He'd thought a lot about his last kiss with Axel lately. Of course, he hadn't known it was going to be their last. It's funny being in the midst of a moment that you _know_ you'll never forget. You can feel the makings of it branding itself into your memory. When he was pressed up against the glass window of his cramped, beat up Sedan. When he was leaning out over the edge of the clock tower, the air whispering love poems along his toes, Axel's hair tickling his cheek as he leaned over to steal a sea salt kiss. You think to yourself _I am _always_ going to remember this moment_. Every detail. But that's a pipe dream. A week passes and you can barely feel the ghost of the sensations tingling in your fingertips. A month passes and you press your own fingers to your lips, hoping to feel something, _anything._ There had to be some semblance, some tiny insignificant _notion_ of Axel left on his lips. But there wasn't.

You're left with the knowledge _that _it happened. Maybe a few stray images. But you can't recreate the feeling of his skin underneath your fingertips. Axel was a poltergeist that haunted him but drew the line at possession. _What he wouldn't give to be possessed…_

He shook his head. _No. _He wasn't going to chase after Axel this time. Even if it was a dream, he wasn't going to waste it by turning it into some senseless, steamy romantic revival. He just wanted closure. _Please._

"I know," Axel replied.

Roxas looked up, squinting through the glints of sharp sunlight. He couldn't read Axel's face at all. And he was still half expecting him to dissolve into the shimmering light, to evaporate into smoke and thin air.

"You what?" Roxas had forgotten what he'd said in the first place.

Axel shifted his weight, placing his elbow against the trunk of the tree and leaning on it. Roxas traced over him with his eyes, memorizing the traces of detail he could make out. His eyes lingered on the worn areas of his jacket, right at the elbows. He watched wordlessly as Axel pulled a toothpick out of his pocket. Roxas stared pointedly at it.

"I stopped smoking," Axel replied with a shrug, seeming to follow Roxas's eyes. He placed the toothpick in his mouth to punctuate his comment.

Roxas shook his head incredulously. His thoughts flitted back to why he'd come here—to talk to Aerith. Through some deluded logic, he'd made it up in his mind that if he couldn't find Axel and apologize, he could at least deliver the apology to his deceased mother. _Makes sense, right? Except for the part where it doesn't. At all. _He wondered if Axel had heard any of that. His speech to Aerith. "How long have you been sitting up there?"

Axel seemed to consider this for a moment. "Long enough."

"Oh. Are you…did you come here to talk to your mom?"

He quirked a lopsided grin as he examined the backs of his knuckles. "Nah. I don't need to be here to talk to her."

"Where do you talk to her then?"

"In my dreams, mostly," he replied seriously. "Not really of my own accord, either. She shows up uninvited."

_Ironic. _His attention returned to their previous exchange. "_I didn't cheat on you, you know." _That part was Roxas. Stupid. But what Axel had said—_"I know." What?_

"How—no, _when_ did you know that I hadn't cheated?" Roxas asked incredulously.

Roxas caught a short, mirthless smile appear on Axel's lips. It disappeared as quickly as it came. "Months ago...Maybe a week after the whole incident?"

"Why didn't you come back for me?" He murmured.

Axel pulled the toothpick from his mouth, staring at it with hard eyes. It looked as though he was mulling something over in his mind. He placed the thin stick back in his mouth. "You were better off without me. You knew it, I knew it."

"Axel—"

"Was I pissed when I saw you with someone else? Yeah. But in a lot of ways I was looking for a clean escape. I was trying to give _you_ a clean escape." He shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"I'm not better off, Axel. I'm broken. I'm barely getting by." He hadn't said Axel's name in so long. It made him too real. He felt tears pricking at his eyes, threatening to open the floodgates.

"You have Tidus now."

"I don't deserve him," Roxas muttered to himself. He tried not to think about Tidus—of his bright blue eyes and reassuring smile and his unbreakable trust that Roxas seemed to test endlessly.

"But you deserve me, huh?"

Roxas looked incredulous. "Yeah. Yeah, Axel. We deserve each other." His tone was rising in intensity. "I let you down and you had a right to be angry. But I have a right to be angry too— you took the first excuse you could find to run away. To give the fuck up." Tears were spilling down his face before he could stop them. He swallowed hard. "You know what? Fuck you, Axel. You were so goddamn stubborn, so _determined _to make me fall for you. You just wouldn't let up. But then when you finally broke through all my inhibitions and my hang-ups, you left me high and dry. _You _left _me_, Axel." He rasped. "I let you down, but you let me go."

At this, Axel began to shift his weight towards the trunk of the tree. He was...climbing down? Roxas watched numbly as Axel descended the tree. He half-heartedly wiped at his nose, trying to stop his pathetic sniffling—it was one of the only audible sounds in the simmering silence after Roxas's outburst. Axel was getting closer and the increasing proximity was giving him anxiety. The thought of having Axel standing on his own two feet in front of him—it was something he had craved for so long. He'd stayed up so many nights praying to a god he'd abandoned years ago, bargaining to give up every vice he could think of for an opportunity like this. But now he felt like his stomach was filled with hardened cement and dread.

Axel stood towering above him. Roxas could feel Axel's proximity and see the makings of Axel's legs in his peripheral vision. But Roxas remained seated on the ground, his eyes trained on the mealy earth. He pulled idly at a strand of grass in front of him, his heartbeat quickening. He couldn't bring himself to look Axel in the eyes. Axel offered him a hand anyway.

Roxas stared. Those hands had built up a reputation in his mind. He didn't feel ready to break that. He didn't want to replace the memory of perennially warm hands with whatever cold, empty illusion this dream would conjure up. But when he looked up into those familiar poison green eyes he couldn't stop his hand from finding Axel's.

Roxas breath hitched with alarm when his hand registered the warmth emanating from Axel's hand. His hand felt _so damn real_. Roxas shut his eyes forcibly, pained by how convincing the illusion was. He felt even warmer arms enveloping him. He was surrounded by safe warmth.

He began to sob wretchedly.

"Hey, hey, shhh. It's okay," came Axel's voice, soft and lyrical.

The sound of Axel's voice—so close and affectionate and _convincingly real_—only made him sob harder. It was just like the voice from so long ago—the voice that serenaded him with _stupid quips_ and _flirty advances. _The voice that made him rise so high and fall so hard.

"Look, Rox. I know you came here to talk to my mom. I can't speak for her, but I can speak for her son." He swallowed, pulling back slightly to look Roxas in the eyes. "He forgives you. He—he loves you. And he's a fucking idiot, okay? ...Actually, his mom would agree with that part."

Roxas could hear the smile in Axel's voice and it ached something painful.

"I'm sorry, Rox."

"Axel," Roxas sobbed even harder. He could barely catch his breath, he felt like his world was caving in. If Axel wasn't holding onto him he didn't know if he'd be able to stand on his own. His breathing felt shallow. It came in quick, labored bursts. He felt like he was having some kind of anxiety attack.

"Roxas—Roxas, please." He took a slight step back, holding Roxas gently by the shoulders and trying to look into his eyes. "Shhh, just breathe. What is it? What's wrong?"

"—euh." _Inhale._ "I—" _Exhale. Inhale-inhale._ "Axel—I can't."_ Inhale-inhale-exhale._

"What? What can't you do?" he asked gently but imploringly, his eyes looking increasingly worried. His eyes so looked so different like this—_caring_—not like the memory of Axel's eyes that Roxas carried like a cross. _Cold and stony. Indifferent._

_Inhale. Inhale-inhale-inhale._ "Y-you. You can't, Axel."

"Can't what? I'll do whatever you need me to do, Roxas. Take some deep breaths for me, okay?"

Roxas nodded. I-n-h-a-l-e. E-x-h-a-l-e. I-n-h-a-l-e. E-x-h-a-l-e.

"Axel, you can't let me wake up."


	19. Home

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you for your reviews, follows, favorites, and messages. I'm grateful for each and every one. Much love!

* * *

Axel tilted Roxas's chin, craning it towards him, and kissed him. Roxas was taken by surprise but submitted easily to the familiarity. He didn't taste of smoke, but _sweeter_.

The kiss ended abruptly, before Roxas could really get a feel for it. Then Axel reached his hands lower, gliding his hands along Roxas's back. Roxas smiled. His lips parted slightly, feeling Axel's hands sliding along his waist...and then Axel pinched him. Hard.

"Ow! What the hell?"

Axel smiled a simple, unapologetic smile. "Guess that settles that. You're not dreaming."

* * *

"So, you quit smoking."

"Mhmm."

Roxas couldn't fight the torrent of emotions swirling within him. The smoke was inextricably tied with the nostalgia of Axel. It being gone made Axel..._less Axel_.

"Why?"

Axel smiled—a curiously abashed smile that he hid by craning his neck down. "Officially?" Axel asked, his voice lilting upwards and his eyebrows following suit. "Because my mom died from the habit."

"And... unofficially?" Roxas asked, taking the hint. He felt the answer coming, along with a rising giddiness within himself.

"On account of all the times you complained about it."

Somehow this exchange between them felt more adulterous than the kiss. But more _right_ in just about every other aspect. It was _them._ It was familiar.

Still, Roxas found that he had a hard time looking at Axel. Not because it was uncomfortable or tense between them...but because it wasn't. And Roxas couldn't quite tear his mind away from the image of Tidus's unerringly trusting blue eyes.

"What's wrong?" Axel asked, yanking Roxas from his laden-with-guilt thoughts.

Roxas let out a shaky sigh, cradling his head in his hands and pulling at his hair in frustration. "God, Axel, my thoughts have been such a cheesy melodramatic shit show lately. I don't know whether I want to actually bash my brains in or just post about it on Facebook."

"Did you just call me 'God Axel'?" Axel quirked a grin.

"Oh, fuck off."

Axel laughed at that. "I forgot how much I missed your teenage angst."

Roxas let a long pause hang between them, trying to figure out how to breach the topic. _What's wrong?_ "It's Tidus," he said finally.

"Yeah, I figured," Axel responded, his tone sobering.

"I don't know what or _how_ you know about Tidus, but I'm not sure if I want to know either. That's actually a little weird."

"Well. I've been out of town for the past few months, confronting some of my old demons. And performing some," Axel replied, sitting up a little straighter against the trunk of the tree.

"_Performing_?" It suddenly occurred to Roxas that he had no idea what Axel did with his free time. Did he have an actual job? _Performing. _Shit, was Roxas actually right in his premonition about Axel being an exotic dancer?

Axel reached over, pressing Roxas's eyebrows back down from their place on Mars. "Yeah. Some magic shows. Opening for some music shows too—I've been the off-and-on guitarist for this shitty band called The Leg Warmers."

"The Leg Warmers," Roxas deadpanned. _You've got to be kidding._

Axel raised his hands up defensively. "Listen, Larxene picked the name. Personally, I voted for Deaf Sex."

"Mm. Just offensive enough to be a band name."

"That's what I said! Whatever, Larxene is a complete bitch. She kicks me out of the band on just about once every day ending in 'Y'. Anyway_, _as I was saying, I was hitchhiking back here from a gig in Tulsa—"

"_Axel."_ Roxas sighed reproachfully. "You're going to get killed doing that."

Axel rolled his eyes, leaning forward and pressing his lips in a soft peck on Roxas's forehead. He flashed a brilliant smile. "Rox, you know firsthand that usually the people who pick me up think _I'm_ going to kill _them_. Not the other way around."

"Okay, that wasn't hitchhiking, Axel. I stopped at the intersection, you walked in front of my car, and then you _forced_ yourself _into_ my car."

Axel waved his hand in the air noncommittally. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Semantics." He shrugged. "So, I'd made it to the outskirts of Hollow Bastion and that's where I waved someone down to hop a ride. This dude tells me his name is Wakka and he's headed toward Twilight Town."

Roxas's eyes widen in recognition. _Wakka is Tidus's best friend. Oh boy._

"So we're in the middle of a conversation about Chaos Theory when Wakka gets a phone call. He's all like '_Oh dude, I gotta take this_.' And he answers like '_Tidus, my brudda_!'"

"That is a _godawful_ impression of him," Roxas interrupted.

"You're just a little spitfire today, aren't you?"

"Yeah, today and every day. Are you gonna get to the point of this story?" Roxas questioned.

"I would already have gotten to the point if you hadn't interrupted me. I think you're just trying to hear more of my voice that you missed so much."

_Well, he wasn't wrong._

"Alright, so… I'm looking out the window, not really listening to their conversation since I can't hear half of it anyway, when I hear a certain familiar name. He goes '_Yo Tidus, are you and Roxas planning on coming down to Fire and Ice tonight_?' And Roxas isn't the most common name, so I perk up a little, like maybe they're talking about _my_ Roxas?"

Roxas couldn't help but smile at that part. '_His Roxas'_. He decided not to make a teasing jest just this once. Even though he kinda wanted to.

"So I keep listening and he goes _'Ah, well tell Roxas and Hayner they should hang with us there next time, ya?'_ And I'm like, _okay_, it's a Roxas _probably_ from Twilight Town who knows a Hayner. So I'm thinking, hell, what are the odds? It's gotta be you. So eventually he gets off the phone and I say 'Tidus sounds like a cool dude. Are you, Tidus, and Roxas all bros?' and he goes '_Ahh yeah, Tidus is my brudda from when we were kids. Roxas is his boyfriend.'" _

"I'm sorry," Roxas spoke solemnly, at barely a whisper. "This isn't how I wanted this to go at all."

"You're sorry? Rox, don't be ridiculous." He sighed, softening his voice. "Roxas, you have nothing to be sorry about." He paused. "Well actually, that's not true. You had the whole lying thing and the date with the blonde girl to be sorry about, but you apologized for it."

Roxas cracked a tiny smile. "Okay, yeah, I deserved that."

"But seriously, Roxas, I wanted you to be happy. To be perfectly honest, I was relieved to hear that you were at least with a guy. I mean, I must've left some kind of impression." He winked.

There it was again. Axel's flirting. Roxas could feel a war waging inside him. He felt tears pricking at the inner corners of his eyes, his mind flitting between the images of poison green eyes and ocean blues. "I really thought you coming back would fix everything for me. That _I_ could fix this. And then Tidus happened. God, everything is so fucked up for me." Roxas pressed his fingers hard against the inner corners of his eyes, trying to push his emotions back in.

"But, Rox, c'mon. You're happy. You found someone. Did you really want me to come back and ruin all that for you?"

"Yes," Roxas whispered, his eyes welling up with tears.

"Roxas," he murmured.

"I did."

Axel swallowed. "And now?"

Roxas nodded, the tears starting to spill over.

Axel gave him a troubled look. _The look of a reluctant homewrecker, probably._ He hesitated before reaching over and wiping the tears gently off Roxas's face.

This only made Roxas cry harder.

"Roxas," he said, leaning forward to look levelly into Roxas's eyes. He gently kissed one of Roxas's tear-stained cheeks. It felt nice. It felt...platonic, which tore at Roxas inside. But it felt like home.


	20. Somnambulist

_They drive past 'the spot'. Roxas can't really stand to call it anything else in his mind since Axel left. As his car idles, he stares absently at the green grass of the median and the red of the stop sign until his vision blurs into an unfocused collection of colors._

_"Rox."_

_The voice that comes from the seat next to him startles him with its sickly familiarity. Roxas takes in a gulp of quickly drying saliva. It clashes harshly with the simultaneous inhale he tries to take. He sputters, coughing, as a war wages in his windpipe._

_"You okay, Rox?"_

_He looks toward the seat next to him and his eyes seize on the same familiar green and red. As his throat continues its onslaught of spasms, the rest of his body stills. Finally, his breath catches. His cerulean blues land on poison greens._

_"Axel?" Roxas croaks._

_"Roxas," Axel murmurs. "Roxas, Roxas." It's like he's testing the name out on his tongue._

_Roxas gazes numbly back at Axel. His lip twitches as his mind tries feebly to grasp diction again. He's fighting through a current that is pushing, pushing, pushing on him. He's trying to hold steady, searching through the haze of crashing waves for words to anchor him. He feels hollow and leaden all at once. He wants to sink. He's trying to float._

_Is he remembering to breathe?_

_There are so many things Roxas is yearning to say. He's a distended balloon, one scratch away from rupture. It's painful not to speak, yet his entire body remains cemented in place. In this moment, Roxas's own skin feels foreign, like it's pulsating to the beat of a heart that isn't his own. He doesn't budge an inch, for fear that Axel will vanish like a specter, evaporating into thin air._

_"Rox," Axel says softly, a gentle hand moving to cup Roxas's cheek. Roxas is grateful for this. He can't help but feel that his rapidly spinning head would otherwise fall off without this anchoring touch. "Hey...Roxas."_

_"Listen," Axel murmurs._

_"Roxas," he says, his tone rising in urgency._

_A little louder. "Roxas."_

_Louder still. "Roxas!" _

_The steadying hand on his cheek begins to shake. Roxas flinches. He opens his eyes, finally finding the words to say to Axel._

_Blue eyes, blond hair, and eyes full of fear are staring back at him. _

_Roxas blinks once. Twice. He's feeling disoriented and nauseous and he moves jerkily toward the window for fear that he's going to vomit. He's clutching the door handle when he realizes—his car is in the middle of the intersection._

_Tidus drives after that. He takes Roxas back to his place. He wants to watch after Roxas after the whole unthinkingly-driving-the-car-into-the-middle-of-an-intersection-and-nearly-killing-both-of-them incident._

_"You can sleep here. I won't try anything," he says simply._

_Roxas half expects to hear a tacked on 'unless you want me to' murmured with a lopsided grin but he quickly banishes the thought. Tidus wouldn't. He was simple. A gentle man. Or a gentleman—he guesses that's where they get that word from. Don't quote him on that, though. _

_When Roxas shuts his eyes and thinks of Tidus he feels awash in calm, tranquil blue. Like the sky. Not so much like the ocean. No turbulence, no shifting sands. Just…afloat._

_The next thing Roxas knows—his eyes are wide open with soft blue eyes staring back at him with what looks like concern. And Roxas's heart is racing. How long had he been asleep?_

_"You were screaming bloody murder," Tidus murmurs, rubbing one eye sleepily. He sits carefully on the edge of the bed, like he's afraid to take up space. His hand finds Roxas's shoulder. Roxas leans into him and Tidus rubs gentle circles into Roxas's back until a calm finally settles over him._

_Tidus makes a move to stand, getting ready to head back to the living room couch. _

_"Stay," Roxas whispers. "Please." He places a halting hand on Tidus's chest. He can feel Tidus bristle at this for a moment but eventually Roxas can feel his chest start to relax into a steadily slowing rise and fall. A pulmonary metronome that lulls him back to sleep._

Roxas awoke slowly. He was disoriented twice over. He peered over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Tidus, but instead found that he was not in Tidus's bed. He was not in Tidus's house. He was in his own house, his own room, his own bed.

It was just a dream.

He blinked. _Well, no_. It wasn't a dream. He distinctly remembered spacing out at the wheel…and the aftermath—that was the first time he'd ever been in Tidus's bedroom. _But that had been a long time ago…right?_ Before Axel came back.

_Axel came back._

Roxas rubbed his forehead, trying to wrap his mind around reality. He sighed. His dream had set him in the antebellum. Before the warring inside Roxas's head.

He felt relieved to be back in the reality where Axel wasn't missing—where Roxas wasn't moving around in a fog, tracing the fingers of phantoms, following the vestiges of ghosts. But mixed in his relief was disappointment. His dream had placed him in simpler times—where people were proud of him for moving on in the wake of the scattered embers of Axel. Where it was just Tidus and Axel was but a pipe dream. Where he didn't have to make a choice.

A choice. Inevitably a choice.

Simple and calm, reassuring and blue, coasting on contentedness.

Or racing hearts and frenzied fire, the known and the unknown, teetering on the edge but savoring the wind in his face.

Inevitably a choice.

* * *

Roxas needed a distraction. So he decided to do the one other thing he'd been dreading. The lesser of two necessary evils.

Roxas sucked in a breath. He'd avoided rehearsing this because he wanted it to be genuine. _Maybe that had been a mistake._ "I could tell you the story of why and how I did what I did, but I don't want to make excuses anymore. The point is, I entangled you into my own messy web of lies. And I used you. My actions sucked, they were hurtful. I'm sorry. Being sorry isn't enough, but it's all I have."

Naminé smiled a meek but rather gracious smile. "I have something I want to show you," she spoke softly. She rose—something strikingly ethereal in her posture and the smatterings of paint on her hands—and retreated from the room.

In her absence, Roxas sat awkwardly in her living room. _She'd taken that…well, _he thought. _Unless she was leaving the room to vent/cry/scream/puncture her Roxas voodoo doll in privacy. It was always hard to tell with the quiet ones. _He _really _hoped the 'something' that Naminé wanted to show him wasn't a voodoo doll of him. He personally believed he had experienced more than enough misery in his short life without dark magic getting in on the fun of antagonizing him.

She returned and wordlessly handed Roxas a notepad. He took it in his hands, still quite a bit disoriented by her reaction to his apology. He blinked down at the notepad. He squinted, gliding his fingers over the details on the page before him. It was so incredibly detailed that Roxas almost mistook it for a photograph. It was a drawing of him and Axel.

"You drew this?"

She nodded. Roxas thought he caught a semblance of a smile on her face.

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I guess you deduced our relationship from that scene at the coffee house?" he asked, his voice a little sheepish.

"Well, yes and no. I figured as much, but when I saw Axel that day, these alarm bells started going off in my head. It took some digging around, but I finally found this. Check the date on it."

_August 13th, 2011_

"What? I think you're mistaken. You must've put a date on this retroactively."

She shook her head. For a moment the light formed a halo that danced across the crown of her head. In the next moment, it was gone. "This is definitely an older work of mine. I've improved and changed in style quite a bit since then. And I always date my works on the day that I finish them."

"I don't understand. I hadn't even met Axel until January of this year."

"Yeah. I'd never seen him until that day in the coffee shop," she admitted.

"And you drew him to a T before ever laying your eyes on him," Roxas deadpanned, his skepticism evident.

"Mm. Well. I used to wake up in the wee hours of the night from these strangely vivid dreams. Some people keep dream journals. I do the same thing but with drawings. It was the only thing that seemed to help me fall back asleep. I actually...I don't want to freak you out, but..." she trailed off, reaching forward to flip the page of the notebook.

Roxas stared. He rubbed his eyes. He touched the drawing again, feeling the indentations and the dry, smooth lines of graphite. It was a rendering of Roxas and Axel at the old clock tower. Roxas was speechless. He merely stared at the picture. He felt confusion, fear, nostalgia, affection, sadness, mystification. An entire barrage of emotions were undulating inside him.

Wordlessly, Roxas turned the page. "God," he murmured. Axel and Roxas at the cemetery. Another page. And another. The notebook was filled entirely with images of them. Some of them he recognized—the so-called ghost train, the coffee shop, the dripping sea salt ice cream—but some of them he didn't. In some, they're dressed in strange, cult-like black robes. In others, a girl who looks like Kairi is there, her hair jet-black. A few have Demyx and Zexion in them. Roxas and Axel battling. Roxas and Axel kissing. Axel surrounded by flames.

He had to set the notebook down. He could barely breathe. "I don't—even if you had drawn all of those yesterday…I mean...some of those things...you couldn't possibly have..."

"I don't even remember the dreams, to be honest. The drawings are really the only traces I have. I can't say that I know what any of this means, but I felt that you should have this." She bit her lip. "I like you, Roxas. But I can't be mad at you, not really. You can't argue with this." She gestured to the notepad. "You and Axel."

"Yeah," Roxas breathed. _Was he dreaming right now? This made no sense._

For reasons he still can't explain, Roxas flipped to the last page of the notebook. He recognized the scenery, the brick walls and primary colors. It was his elementary school. And there was what appeared to be an elementary-aged Axel. His hair was a calmer shade of reddish-brown, sticking up in some places and lying flat in others—a modulated version of the spikes he had now. But those poison green eyes...

It was Axel, alright.

He was reaching into a cubby labeled as Roxas's. _Stealing something, maybe?_ He was holding some sort of envelope. _The decoration on the exterior...the hearts. _

Roxas began to taste the sickly smack of peanut butter.

_Envelope. Note. _

_...Axel?_


	21. Faking It

This was crazy. It was crazy enough for Roxas to be attempting to make some grandiose romantic gesture—it was _so_ not Roxas—but it was even crazier for him to be doing it because of the augury of some girl's dream. If someone showed up a year ago and tried to tell Roxas that he'd be doing this—for a guy, no less—he would ask them what pot they're smoking, what it's laced with, _and_ _can he have some_?

In the middle of Roxas's ruminating, Sora walked in. Roxas stopped, mustering a small smile at Sora and a brief wave. Roxas was making a concerted effort to be friendlier now. You know, _turning over a new leaf_ or whatever. Sora shuffled forward in clipped steps—a strange, pinched look plastered on his face. Evidently something was up. "What?" Roxas asked.

"Hey, Roxas, how's it goin'?" He asked in a strained, overly chipper voice. Think _Ronald McDonald. _Yeah, creepy.

"Ew, cut it out."

"Cut what out? I just…y'know…wanted to stop and say hi. And that I love you." Sora rambled sappily. He smiled a big _Ronald McDonald _smile, pulling Roxas into a smothering hug.

"Sora—and I mean this in the nicest, most brotherly way possible—if you don't stop right now, I'm going to punch you in the face."

Sora reeled back, raising his hands up in defense. "Okay, okay. Sheesh. Grumpy."

"Thank you," Roxas breathed. He dusted his clothes off, as though it would clean his aura of the loveydoviness. "So what the hell was that all about?"

"Can't a brother just show his fellow brother that he loves him very much?" Sora whined defensively.

Roxas frowned. "No."

Sora sighed, his shoulders drooping. "Fine. Promise not to freak out when I tell you this?"

"Is it really _that_ bad?"

Sora stared back awkwardly. He smiled that just-baring-your-teeth kind of smile.

"It _is _that bad. Ooookay. Give me a second." Roxas paused, breathing deeply, trying to prepare himself. He pondered the possibilities for a moment. "You didn't…sleep with Axel, did you?"

"No! _Nonono_, nothing like that."

"…Tidus?"

"No! _No_. God, Roxas. Of course not." Sora regrouped himself. "Okay, maybe…_maybe_ this isn't as bad of news as I thought? _Yeah_. Yeah, it's probably fine. I think you'll take it pretty well, actually. After all, you've been doing a lot better lately, y'know? With your…mood…and all…"

"Sora, you're rambling."

Sora sucked in a breath. "Ourparentsarecominghome," Sora sputtered all at once.

"_What?"_

Sora sighed, repeating it more slowly. "Our…our parents our coming home."

Roxas stared blankly back at him.

Sora rushed to fill in the silence. "Just—just for a visit! Like, just a few days. It's probably nothing. I can distract them, maybe? Tell them you're really busy with a project and then sleep at Tidus's or Hayner's or something. And—and I can do all the hanging out with them! I promise you don't have to see them if you don't want to—"

"It's fine," Roxas grated out with practiced calmness.

"It's not fine, Roxas. You know it's not fine," Sora implored gently. He had a pitying look on his face. Roxas tried not to scowl at its reemergence.

"No, _really_, it's fine," Roxas repeated carefully.

"It…it is?"

"Yeah, totally," Roxas breathed out as casually as he could.

"Oh, okay. Great! Because, um…they'll be here tomorrow." _Cue a second just-baring-the-teeth grin. _

"Tomorrow_," _Roxas echoed hollowly._ "Tomorrow_! That's… great!" Roxas forced out.

"Well, um, in that case. Do you think you could come to church with us? They really…want to meet…uh…whoever it is you're dating? Um. Who is it that you're dating now, exactly? Tidus? Axel? I, uh, I've seen both of them around here lately so I don't really know what's going on," Sora confessed. "You're not doing the whole polyamory thing, are you? I…don't know if mom and dad could handle that."

"Uh. No. Yeah, no. Um, church—yeah. I'll be there. Tomorrow. With—with my boyfriend! Yeah. Speaking of—I gotta go call him. Um. My boyfriend. Yeah. See you later!" Roxas sputtered. He gathered his stuff clumsily in his hands and all but sprinted to his room.

He pressed his back against his door, sliding down until he met the floor. "Oh god," he muttered to himself. He forced the bile rising in his chest back down as best he could. He tried to take deep, calming breaths. He sighed. He didn't want to face his parents. Deep down, he'd always felt that the reason they'd moved halfway across the world was that they'd known what he'd become—even before Roxas knew. He used to think that they just thought of him as a failure. A shadow cast from their perfect firstborn son. But it turns out it was more than that.

_Their son was a faggot. _He grimaced, pulling hard at the ends of his hair until it hurt. Maybe he deserved it, anyway.

His mom had torn up the note back when the word _gay_ didn't even mean anything to him. They'd encouraged him endlessly to date Naminé. His parents wouldn't even let him be friends with their neighbor Yuffie when they'd found out she had two moms.

He _really_ didn't want to face his parents. But he couldn't do it alone. He couldn't face them alone. He picked up his phone and dialed the number of the person he needed to speak to most. He listened to the dial tone, his anticipation building with each ring until finally there was an audible click.

"Tidus."


	22. Full Circle

"So…you want _me_ to go to _church _with you."

"Yeah," Roxas sighed. "Ugh." He flopped on his bed with a dull thud.

"May I remind you that I wanted to name a band _Deaf Sex_, I have tattoos on my face, and I am very, _very _flamingly homosexual?"

"Yeah, I'm aware. It's what my parents want. Or what they _think_ they want."

"Mm. Alright." Axel collapsed onto the mattress, joining Roxas. His legs hung off the edge of the bed. "You know, I've always wanted to have sex in a church."

Roxas rolled his eyes. "Yeah well. Let's save that for the next church visit after this."

"Can I get that promise submitted to me in writing?"

"We'll see." Roxas turned on his side, propping his head up on his elbow. He stared undisguisedly at Axel. Ever since Axel had returned, he couldn't stop himself from doing this. He felt a compelling need to memorize the details of Axel's face—the way his eyelashes lightly kissed his face when he blinked, the indescribable green of his eyes that his memory never did justice, the faint scar above his left eyebrow, the single dimple that formed when Roxas earned a lopsided grin from him. Roxas felt his heart swell.

Axel shifted to face Roxas. They stayed like that for several moments, just looking at each other. Into each other. The tone in the room shifted, a calm settling over as Roxas peered unabashedly into sea green eyes. Finally, Roxas broke the silence. "Sora said my parents want to meet the person I'm dating. I don't know what he's told them, but I'm not even sure if they realize that I'm not dating a girl," he muttered.

Axel sat up, a quirked eyebrow giving way to an entirely furrowed brow. "You—but I'm the one who's meeting your—who you're dating—me—Tidus?"

"Wow, I never thought I'd see the day that I made Axel Leone tongue-tied," Roxas remarked with a hint of self-satisfaction.

"Rox—"

Roxas held up a halting finger to Axel's lips. "Hold on, I just want to relish in this moment a little longer," he hummed.

"Roxas," Axel pleaded, his eyes brimming with emotion.

"Yeah…so…" Roxas bit his lip. "I broke up with Tidus."

"You…broke up with Tidus." Axel blinked. "You want your parents to meet _me_. The person you're dating. I'm—I'm the person you're dating. We—we're dating?" Axel stammered.

Feeling bold, Roxas leaned forward and connected their lips. Axel's eyes remained open for several moments, flitting around, seemingly connecting the dots in his head. Roxas deepened the kiss, finally getting Axel to relax and submit to it. Axel hands found Roxas's face. Roxas smiled into the kiss. He placed his hands gently over Axel's, breaking the kiss up into small, chaste pecks peppered sweetly over Axel's lips.

Axel wasn't having it. He took hold of Roxas's hands, pinning them to the bed above Roxas's head and leering over him. Axel leaned in until their lips were a hairbreadth away from touching. _Well there goes stammering, tongue-tied Axel, possibly never to be seen again. And now back to our regularly scheduled programming. _Axel hummed a soft, contemplating noise.

"What?" Roxas grinned, arching up ever so slightly to brush his lips against Axel's.

Axel broke the connection of their lips again, keeping teasingly and dangerously close. "I'm just thinking—I never even got to ask you to be my boyfriend proper."

"Hmmm," Roxas hummed in return. "Yeah, you're right."

"Roxas," he murmured.

"Mhmm?"

"Will you do me the honor of being my boyfriend?"

"Let me think about that," Roxas answered. "See, this is where I would stroke my chin in faux-contemplation but—" he paused, wiggling his fingers underneath Axel's grip. "You've got my hands pinned to the bed."

Axel shifted his hands to perch on the bed above Roxas's shoulders. With his newfound freedom, Roxas instead clasped his hands around Axel's neck and pulled him down into his reciprocating lips. This kiss was different. It was deep and achingly slow, a dancing embrace. Roxas sighed into the kiss. It was like his first breath of air after drowning, drowning, drowning. It was a kiss of mutuality, an unspoken vow passed between them.

Roxas was the one to finally break the kiss. "Alright, you convinced me," he murmured jokingly. He nodded more vigorously, his eyes suddenly welling up with more emotion than he expected. "Yeah. I want to be yours. I mean, I already am yours." He ran along thumb along Axel's face, where he knew Axel's dimple hid.

"So…boyfriends. Exclusive. Like, a verbal agreement to only kiss each other."

Roxas nodded, blinking away the tears in his eyes. "Yeah," he grinned. "And no fake girlfriends to get in the way this time."

"Hey Roxas, guess who got here early?" A voice shouted from the hallway.

"Oh shit," Roxas breathed. He quickly pushed Axel up off of him, knocking him onto the floor moments before Sora opened the door. His parents stood behind, their eyes staring appraisingly in.

"Heeey," Roxas said as coolly as he could manage. "Who's excited for church tomorrow?"

* * *

Their hands were close.

Roxas tried hard not to think about their proximity. Especially after yesterday. Especially since his parents were sitting directly next to the two of them.

But he felt touch-deprived. Like his skin hungered for the brush of Axel's skin, for the warmth of his touch. He shuddered, shifting in his seat and trying to watch the sermon._ Of course_, it was about homosexuality. It was like his parents planned this or something. Maybe they did, planning their trip home just when their church would deliver an anti-gay lecture. Or maybe they asked the church personally to deliver a sermon to reach out to their lost, sinful son. Either way, it was pretty fucked up.

"_If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them."_

Roxas tuned the heated voice of the pastor out, again focusing on Axel. His arm was right there, on the armrest right next to Roxas's. Roxas held his own hand open, tilting it towards Axel's but not touching it. He brushed his wrist momentarily against Axel's, looking away and pretending not to notice.

Axel shifted, and the breath in Roxas's lungs stilled. The side of Axel's hand came in contact with Roxas's, but their hands remained unclasped.

It was driving him nuts. He was trying so hard to act like he was paying attention to God-related things but every ounce of his attention and energy was concentrated in that singular point on his body where Axel's skin was connected with his. He was afraid to breathe for fear of giving himself away. He couldn't draw too much attention. Plus, he wanted Axel to make the move. He couldn't lose his sleight of hand.

His heart thumped erratically, sending more blood flow to his hand. Time felt suspended. Time felt fast. This was all so dizzying for Roxas. _To think Axel was straddling him the other day and now he was freaking out over getting Axel to hold his hand. _

And then he felt Axel's hand move. It slid along the side of Roxas's, trailing out an agonizing path. And then he stopped, having sufficiently scooted his hand to the edge of his armrest. Roxas tried to stuff his heart back down his esophagus, where it had leapt. The side of his hand tingled where Axel's touch had been.

He dared to make a move back. He shifted the angle of his forearm slightly rightward, the cup of his hand facing Axel's hand more directly. An invitation. The maneuver also caused his forearm to brush against Axel's ever so slightly. Roxas dared a sideward glance, searching Axel's expression. Axel's eyes were focused ahead on the pulpit. _Alright. Two can play at that game._

Roxas flexed his fingers, curling them out and back in serially, managing to lightly brush the back of his knuckles against Axel's skin. He felt another movement and his entire body felt rigid and energized at the same time. An explosion and a standstill. Axel tilted his hand into Roxas's. In one fluid motion, Roxas fit his hand reciprocally into Axel's. His entire hand felt like stars burning in the night sky. Like bees and hummingbirds buzzing through his blood and into his waiting fingertips.

He couldn't stop the smile that immediately erupted, breaching the stoicism on his face. He tried to squash it, to erode the notion that this had been his all-encompassing desire this entire time, but he couldn't. He didn't dare to spare a glance at his parents, for fear that they were watching with horror. Not only was his son bathed in sin, but he was celebrating said sin while in the house of God.

And then Axel shifted again and Roxas was wrenched from his thoughts. He parted his fingers ever so slightly, unfolding his hand. Roxas followed and Axel entwined their fingers.

And Roxas's heart melted. Truly, he didn't give a fuck about the sermon anymore. Not that he ever really did.

* * *

"So—mom, dad. I guess I should formally introduce you. This is Axel."

"Hello, Axel," Dad said. He extended a hand and exchanged a firm handshake with Axel.

Axel nodded. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you," Mom echoed. Her eyes were tracing a path from Roxas to Axel and back to Roxas. Roxas swallowed thickly.

"So…you wanted to meet who I'm dating. So. This is Axel, my boyfriend," Roxas stated, albeit a bit loudly. He didn't really want to repeat himself. He just wanted to get this over with. He was so _done_ with secrets and closets and _peanut butter_.

"Boyfriend?" Mom repeated with incredulity.

"Yes ma'am," Axel replied in earnest, nodding.

"You knew about this?" Dad inquired, looking at Sora.

Sora nodded.

"Roxas, may I speak with you in private?" Mom interjected.

Roxas exchanged a look with Axel. _Great. _"Yeah, sure." He followed as she walked into a separate room of the church.

"Roxas," she sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "What is this about? Are you doing this just to spite your dad and I? I know you've been bent out of shape with us since the move, but we really raised you better than this."

"_Honestly, _Mom? Do you really think I '_turned gay_' just to spite you? Are you really that self-involved? No. I _tried_ to be straight, okay? I tried. I convinced myself that I was. And I moved through life like a fucking zombie. I slept all the damn time. Every day was just going through the motions."

She gripped Roxas's arm and dropped to an intense, chiding whisper. "Roxas—I'm your mother and this is a church. Please stop swearing."

Roxas pulled his arm from her grip. "I don't know why I'm even bothering to explain this to you because I know it won't get through to you, but my life was at a standstill until I met Axel, okay? Axel was the one who jolted me up to speed."

"Speed—Roxas are you doing drugs?"

Roxas ignored her. Honestly, he was saying this more to himself than to his mom. Like a self-affirmation. Confirming everything he'd already known with finality. "I came out to Sora, I came out to my friends. Axel walked into my life a pedestrian and came out my catalyst. I'm happy, Mom. And that's all I really care about anymore. So, really, if you don't agree with it, I don't care. You can't force me back into the closet. I'm 18. I'm an adult. You can disown me for all I care."

"Roxas—"

"Bye, Mom." Roxas turned on his heels and walked briskly back into the previous room, grabbing Axel quickly by the arm from whatever conversation he was in with his dad and pulling him out.

"Let's go, Axel."

* * *

"I don't really want to talk about it," Roxas said finally.

They were sitting in Roxas's car about 50 miles from home in some random parking lot. Roxas just needed to get far, far away from his parents. Maybe he'd never go back. _Okay, maybe that's a little extreme_. But he'd wait at least until his parents went back to their company HQ in Hong Kong or _wherever-the-fuck_ it was now. He was just happy being where Axel was.

"That's okay. Let's talk about something else."

"Okay…" Roxas took a deep breath, clearing his head. "So, I have to ask. When you were at the cemetery, were you…expecting to see me there?"

Axel wrinkled his nose. "'Course not. How could I have known that?"

His mind flitted to the notebook that Naminé had showed him. "With the past few days I've had, I'd believe just about anything right now."

"Roxas," Axel said seriously. He took Roxas's hands in his. "I was just diagnosed with a medical condition called intimacy deprivation. If you don't kiss me, I might die."

Roxas rolled his eyes. "Gross."

Axel shrugged with a grin. "You said you'd believe anything right now. Was worth a try."

Roxas leaned forward, pressing a lazy kiss into Axel's lips. "Better?"

"For now."

Roxas shook his head and chanced a second eye-roll. "Mm. So you were just visiting your mom. Not looking for me."

"Yeah," Axel replied. He reached over, smoothing a piece of Roxas's hair down with an affectionate smile. Roxas watched—he savored when that smile came along. It was softer and much rarer than his cheeky grins and teasing smirks.

"Didn't you say that your mom would talk to you in your dreams?"

"Yeah. Pretty much nightly, too."

"So why did you need to go to her in person? I mean…at her resting place, in-person...you know what I mean."

Axel sat up a little straighter. "So…my mom would repeatedly show up in my dreams asking me to come home. I kept telling her, 'Mom, you know that's not what I do. I can't stay in one place.' But she insisted. She just kept saying to trust her and to come home. So, after weeks and weeks of her repeating the same thing in all of my dreams—which was getting pretty annoying, I'm not gonna lie—I came back to town. I stayed with Demyx for a few days, but still Aerith was showing up in my dreams, saying 'come home, come home'. It made no sense to me. I _was_ home and she was still showing up. So I came to the cemetery to see if she could give me any better revelations there. I mean, it was worth a shot, right?" He looked at Roxas with a calm smile. "Then you showed up there and I finally realized."

He leaned forward, tracing his thumb along Roxas's cheek before placing a soft kiss on his forehead, his nose, his lips. "You're my home, Rox."

Roxas's eyes glittered. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. He handed it wordlessly to Axel. _God, Romantic gestures were so not his thing._ Roxas's heart was thumping in his chest. _And he was going off the supposedly premonitory dream journal of some girl. It was honestly insane._

"What's this?" Axel asked, quirking a red eyebrow.

"Open it," Roxas urged. _Please._

Axel pried open the envelope, revealing a note adorned with pink and red hearts. He unfolded it, revealing two stick figures, crayon hearts dancing wildly around them. He blinked, running a hand along the illustrations. A smile of disbelief came upon his face, washing away into quiet intensity. His green eyes were set ablaze, brighter than Roxas had ever seen them. Roxas wanted to preserve this moment in time forever, to etch it into his identity.

"You remembered."

* * *

**A/N:** So that's it. Excuse me while I go get emotional about the end of my first chaptered fic. It's been quite a ride.


End file.
